Knife thrower
by demonicbunnies
Summary: a new student(he's irish!) arrives to finish a JuV term but why won't he tell anyone about his past?It's DONE!!!!! HUZZAH!
1. Default Chapter

I don't own the Cliffhangers or Higher ground or that stuff. I DO own Dwayne, Rowan and any one else I decide to throw into the mix. OK? Pleasurable readings- demonicbunnies  
  
The Cliff Hangers watched as the beat up Sedan pulled its self up the long dirt road the stretch of empty space called the parking lot. "10 to one says they'll have to roll it down the mountain," said Ezra to Auggie. He was pushed forward by the girl who sat behind him.  
  
"I can tell someone was listening in Group yesterday," Juliet said playfully, "Remember that whole thinking before you speak thing?! Anyway, I hope it's a cute guy."  
  
"But what will all us guys do?" asked Auggie. "I'm hoping for some babe who needs someone like me to comfort her in his arms late at night." The group stopped talking and watched as a tall, thin black man got out of the drivers seat and walked around to the back of the car. He appeared to be saying something through the open window. It was easy to tell the response though, a middle finger stuck out into the air. The black man opened the door and pulled out a white boy with short black and blue dreadlocks dressed in blue jeans and an Army jacket. He shook his head and said something to the man, then adjusted his headphones and followed him to Peter's office.  
  
"He's hot!" exclaimed Kat, Shelby, Daisy and Juliet as one. The boys looked at each other.  
  
"Is it just me or is he smiling?" said Auggie to the guys, the girls being preoccupied.  
  
"Head case," said Scott.  
  
"Then Ezra will have a friend," cracked Shelby, taking her eyes away from the cutie.  
  
"Shut up," said Ezra. A Tracker jogged up to them then, stopping the would be battle.  
  
"Ezra, Peter wants to see you," he said. Slowly Ezra got up and strode along the dirt path. Wonder what his story is he thought when walking into the office. The two boys sized up each other. Ezra stared at the youth's icy blue eyes and dark brown hair he had thought was black. In addition to the blue it also had blond streaks. His gaze was sidetracked to a jagged scar that started above the boy's left eye and wound it's way down the side of his face to end along the left jaw line. He had a chin labret and the space between his eyes was pierced too.  
  
Rowan stared back at the kid, tuning out Dwayne. It wasn't anything he hadn't heard already anyway. The kid broke the stare first, looking over at the man who had introduced himself as Peter Scarbrow. Rowan hadn't bothered to take his hand or act falsely friendly. He'd be out of here soon anyway. "Rowan," stated Dwayne, his white teeth flashing against his dark skin, "Try not to get kicked out of this place to fast ok?" Rowan smirked. How long had Dwayne been his caseworker? 4 years? 3? "I mean it. One more screw up and you're not seeing Ireland for a while." This statement crashed Rowan back down to reality.  
  
"You can't do that," he said with his faint accent barely showing through. 8 years of America would get rid of almost any accent and he always had a gift with languages and mimicking tongues.  
  
"Watch me," said Dwayne.  
  
"You suck."  
  
"Look, just try. 3 months. 3 simple months. Screw up here you're back in JuV and your sentence is lengthened. Didn't you pay attention at your hearing?"  
  
"I was counting on you to take notes." Dwayne just threw up his hands, knowing it'd be pointless to argue. Peter intervened.  
  
"Rowan, this is Ezra. He'll show you around for a week, let you get used to everything; he'll tell you the rules."  
  
"Don't bother, he'll break them all anyway," muttered Dwayne.  
  
"Oh, I love you to Dwayne. Tell you what, for our honeymoon we'll visit the Caribbean. Hell, we can name our first born after you."  
  
"I'm touched."  
  
"The question is, touched where?" Peter again tried to intervene.  
  
"Ezra, why don't you take Rowan to group? I'll be there soon, I just need to check his stuff and show Dwayne where to stow it."  
  
"Fine with me," said Dwayne. "First though Rowan, knives. If I were you I'd hand them over before I check you." Good thing you're not me then, thought Rowan. Without saying a word, just turning up the volume on his CD player so it was blasting Nirvana, he pulled out 3 knives form various places on his body. He took his book bag and grabbed one more. "That it?"  
  
"If I had anything else, do you think I would tell you?" Dwayne just began to check him for anything he might be trying to sneak in. While running his hands along Rowan's right lag he felt a plastic lighter.  
  
Pulling out he remarked, "Planning on a campfire?"  
  
"Yeah, s'mores and all." Dwayne finished and Rowan mentally sighed. He still had a knife on him, not to mention another lighter and some cigarettes. Motioning with one hand, Ezra showed him to a large room with metal chairs in a semi-circle. This I different from JuV how? Wondered Rowan to himself. Greta now I'm going to have to talk about all my deep dark secrets and sucky childhood. Yippee. Three chairs for the American law system. There were already 6 other teens in the chairs. Rowan chose the one closest to the window, farthest way from anyone else.  
  
"What'd you do to get in here?" asked a Latino boy a few chairs away.  
  
Rowan leaned back in his chair. "Everything." 


	2. Group

Group  
  
Once again- I DON'T OWN HIGHER GROUND!!!!!!!!!!! (and if I did it's be back on) (but I don't so it's not) (Fate is cruel)  
  
Peter entered the room surveying any possible damage that might have occurred in his absence. "Ok, guys, we have a new member that means tell your story. Oh, and Rowan, there is a woman who helps with this group, a co counselor named Sophie but she took the day off today." Rowan shrugged and Peter sighed, realizing this kid was going to be harder to break than he thought. "Scott you start."  
  
"I'm Scott and I'm here for drugs. Shelby."  
  
"I'm Shelby and I'm here because I ran away and lived on the streets because my step dad sexually abused me. Daisy."  
  
"I'm Daisy and here because I beat up my Dad. Auggie."  
  
"I'm Auggie because I was in a gang and did a lot of tagging so I chose this place over JuV. Kat."  
  
"I'm Kat and I'm here because I was suicidal so my adoptive parents sent me here to figure things out. Juliet."  
  
"I'm Jules and I'm here because I wasn't as perfect as my mom thought I should be so I got attention by cutting. Ezra."  
  
"I'm Ezra and I'm here because I turned to drugs because of family stuff. Rowan."  
  
"I'm Rowan and I'm here to finish the 3 remaining moths of my JuV sentence." Rowan said this with his eyes closed, leaning his chair against the wall.  
  
"Why were you in JuV?" asked Jules.  
  
"Beat up a kid pretty badly."  
  
"How bad," asked Scott.  
  
"He- he's not getting a lot of dates."  
  
"How bad?" repeated Scott, pressing.  
  
"Broke his arm, his nose, he lost two teeth. Cuts, bruises, and shit."  
  
"Why?" asked Auggie. Rowan didn't answer; he just kept his eyes closed and pushed the chair against the wall.  
  
"OOOK," said Peter," finish this sentence: I just found out… Scott."  
  
"I just found out my Dad got a promotion. Shelby."  
  
"I just found out we have a new kid. Daisy."  
  
"I just found out the new kid is Irish or English or something around the British Isles. He's got a faint accent."  
  
"Irish Gypsy," said Rowan softly.  
  
"How come you don't have an accent?" asked Auggie.  
  
"Oi dew. Oi ju' chose not te use it 'cau people cat u'stand wot I'm saying an' I don't like repeating. (In an American voice now) Especially when I talk fast. It's just easier to stick with American English."  
  
"Oh," said Auggie. "Well I just found out why Rowan doesn't have a prominent accent, I think. Ezra."  
  
"I just found out-uh- that Sophie's back." Everyone turned as Sophie entered the rooms and introductions were made, Rowan once again not saying anything. Kat began her sentence then.  
  
"I just found out the new kid is cute. Jules." Everyone stared and even Rowan cracked open an eye.  
  
"I just found out Kat does care about guys other than Brad Pitt look alikes. Rowan."  
  
"I just found out there's no such thing a the real world. It's just a lie you have to rise above. No Such Thing- By John Mayer." 


	3. Memory

Disclaimer- I own no one but Rowan, his dad, Sara, and anyone else you don't see on Higher Ground (I think you get the picture)  
  
Rowan could feel himself slipping into a memory as everyone else talked about something. He fought it, crashing his chair to the ground and grabbing his had as if in pain. But it was too late; the memory had already overtaken him.  
  
He and Sara were lined up on the wall again waiting for their dad to finish puking his brains out, his body ridding itself of the alcohol. It was time for a game. "Youss is bad. Youss need to b' punished," he said slurring his words. He slapped Sara first and she whimpered. Rowan kicked him then, with all his little 6 year old might.  
  
"Don't!" cried Sara but it was too late. Her father had already begun beating Rowan about the back and chest, screaming curses. Rowan had blacked out then and when he woke up he wished he had not. Sara had stripped off his bloody shirt so she could wash and bleach it, hoping to remove the dark blood. She slowly wrapped up the cuts from the belt's brass buckle and heavy rings. He could hear his father snoring off his hangover and hopefully they would be able to clean up the trailer before he woke up.  
  
"How ba'?" asked Rowan, his little voice strained with pain.  
  
"Threw ye into th' mirror," she said, her voice said. "Rowan, ye got to stop taking me beatin's. I'm 15. I cen take care o'myelf." Rowan didn't answer, knowing in his heart she was wrong. "Did ye know, is bad luck t' break a mirror, cau' is like breaking yeself since is a reflection o' you?" Rowan shook his head no. His sister always managed to find out the neatest stuff, and would tell it to him to take his mind off the almost-unbearable pain.  
  
Someone was touching his shoulder now, waking him from the memory he wished he had forgotten. Damn his good memory. He flinched involuntarily. "Rowan?" he heard Peter's voice and raised his head from his hands, saw the concerned faces. "What's wrong? What happened?"  
  
He shook his head. "Nothing" he needed to get out, to escape. He needed to forget. He strode from the room quickly heading for the woods he had glimpsed in the car and on the walk to the office. He could fin a tree there; lose himself in the foliage and Kurt Cobain's angry words. He could forget everything and everyone, especially Sara. Her most of all.  
  
Lithium- Nirvana  
  
I'm so happy because today  
  
I've found my friends...  
  
They're in my head  
  
I'm so ugly, but that's okay, 'cause so are you...  
  
We've broken our mirrors  
  
Sunday morning is everyday for all I care...  
  
And I'm not scared  
  
Light my candles in a daze...  
  
'Cause I've found god - yeah, yeah, yeah  
  
I'm so lonely but that's okay I shaved my head...  
  
And I'm not sad  
  
And just maybe I'm to blame for all I've heard...  
  
But I'm not sure  
  
I'm so excited, I can't wait to meet you there...  
  
But I don't care  
  
I'm so horny but that's okay...  
  
My will is good - yeah, yeah, yeah  
  
I like it - I'm not gonna crack  
  
I miss you - I'm not gonna crack  
  
I love you - I'm not gonna crack  
  
I kill you - I'm not gonna crack 


	4. Fight

Disclaimer- own no body but Rowan and Dwayne and Jason and any other peoples I make up.  
  
Thanx to everyone! Who reviewed this!!!!!!! (I am in a sound of music mood cause they were all good reviews) all hail you any one who wrote one (do me a favor and don't knock me off my peg. I like it up here) Scott is with no one and I'll try to get one of the characters to state that. PS- I have a cold and I'm looking at the world thru sedated eyes so if I'm a wee bit weird, don't mind me PPS- I feel super stupid asking this but what are shuns? None of the episodes I saw gave a real description. (keep in mind: I have a cold so I could just be going thru memory loss or something)  
  
Peter hurried after Rowan, afraid he'd run away. Why didn't I read his files? He asked over and over in his mind. He resolved to read them first thing if he could get to the boy before anyone else. He was too late though and he watched as Rowan bumped into a boy from another group. "Hey watch it!" yelled the boy-no, Jason, almost falling into a mud puddle. Rowan just kept walking. "Hey, you're supposed to say something right about now," he said to the retreating back. Rowan stopped and turned around, taking a few measured steps so he was fairly close to Jason.  
  
"Say something?" he said measuring his words, "how about, you're an asshole. That good?"  
  
"Well, you want to know what I have to say?!"  
  
"No." With that Rowan turned and kept walking. Jason jogged up behind him throwing his hand on Rowan's left shoulder demandingly. Peter started running up to the two, a good idea of what was going to happen in his mind. Spinning fast Rowan turned and punched Jason in the stomach. As the boy went down he was punched several times in the face. "Don't_touch_me," said Rowan acidly. Peter jumped between the two.  
  
"Jason-nurse. Rowan, come with me. We're going to my office."  
  
"I'm kicked out so soon? I'd have to say, this is a new record."  
  
"Hold the celebration. I'm just calling Dwayne. Then I'll decide on your punishment."  
  
"Punishment?! It's my first day!"  
  
"So why were you in a fight? You're past experiences should have given you a hint on what the rules were!"  
  
"That wasn't a fight! That wasn't even me beating him up!"  
  
"It was a violent conflict and that's enough to get you in trouble!" They entered the office and Peter headed straight for the phone. He dialed the number and on the second ring Dwayne picked up,  
  
"This better not be Peter."  
  
"Alas."  
  
"Please tell me you're calling to make sure I arrived safely."  
  
"Alas again."  
  
"Damn! What'd he do this time?"  
  
"Tell him it's not ritualistic slaughter so he can calm down and stop hyperventilating," said Rowan.  
  
"I heard that! Peter, do me a favor and put me on speaker phone."  
  
"Done."  
  
"I AM NOT DRIVING UP THAT DAMN MOUNTAIN TO GET YOU!!!! YOU ARE GOING TO BEHAVE MISTER OR SO HELP ME GOD I'LL-" click. Peter looked at Rowan who put the phone back on the hook.  
  
"Bad blood pressure," he said simply. Peter sighed. I have a feeling this isn't going to be an easy case to help, he thought.  
  
"You're on kitchen duty for a week, ok? Dinner cleanup. I'll put Jason on lunch clean up so hopefully the two of you will not fight each other again. You're in luck, you'll be with Kat."  
  
"Oh really. What'd she do?"  
  
"She skipped two groups. That's a no no."  
  
"Damn. I'll have to remember not to do that. " Rowan got up to leave. "Oh by the way, in case you didn't know, I'm not exactly the hugs and puppies kind of guy so don't try the touchy feely approach." He left then and Peter watched him go. He pulled out his file, ready to start reading it.  
  
NAME: Rowan Cameron Douglas  
  
Age: 16  
  
Birth date: April 17  
  
Birth Place: Down, Ireland (exact location unknown)  
  
Hair: Dark brown (looks black) w/ natural blond streaks  
  
Eyes: Blue  
  
Mother: Jessica Ann Parker (American)(wanted)  
  
Father: Grant Jamie Douglas (wanted)  
  
Siblings: Sara Michelle Douglas (dead-age 16-sucide)  
  
Citizenship- Joint citizenship between Ireland and America  
  
Move To America: 1992 (age 7) (with sister and father)  
  
Times left country since: none  
  
Peter skip the net page, which stated basic health facts, thinking he would come back to it. The page he stopped on seemed to contain the information he'd need the most.  
  
POLICE RECORDS (starting at arrival in America)-  
  
1992- Runaway (age 7) April 2-3  
  
1992- Runaway (age 7) April 23-24  
  
1992- father disappears (wanted for suspected child abuse)  
  
Rowan (age 8) in hospital in coma June 3- July 1  
  
1992- placed in foster home (age 8)-July 17th  
  
1992- removed from foster home-suspicions of abuse- July 31  
  
Peter continues to follow the time line of crimes, stints in foster homes and JuV. On the 4th page of the time line he found a summary of what he had just been reading:  
  
SUMMARY OF POLICE RECORDS:  
  
RUNAWAY- 25 counts  
  
VAGRANCY- 15 counts (more suspected)  
  
VANDALISM- 3 counts (more suspected)  
  
PETTY THEFT- 10 counts (more suspected)  
  
DRUGS- 5 counts (more suspected)  
  
PROSTITUTION- suspected  
  
ASSUALT- 1 counts  
  
POSSESION OF WEAPONS- 4 counts (knives)  
  
ABUSE (INFLICTED ON HIM)- one confirmed (20 more suspected)  
  
CORRECTIONAL FACILITIES-  
  
Age 9- St. Peter's Correctional Facility- vandalism, runaway, vagrancy, 3 months  
  
Age 11- Smition's Home for Trouble Youth- pick pocketing, runaway, vagrancy, vandalism- 1 year  
  
Age 12- Juvenile lockup (aka. JuV)- runaway, vagrancy, petty theft- 6 months  
  
NOTE- released early because of good behavior (original sentence 1 year)  
  
Age 13- Our Savior's Detention Center For Boys- drugs, vagrancy, suspected prostitution- 1 year  
  
NOTE- ran away 3 times, adding onto original sentence of 6 months  
  
Age 15- Juvenile Lock Up (aka JuV)- assault, resisting arrest, possession of a knife- 1 year  
  
NOTE- released early to transfer to Higher Ground Facilities (CURRENT PLACE OF RESIDENCE) to finish 3 remaining months for health reasons  
  
Age 16- Higher Ground Home For troubled Youth- assault, resisting arrest, possession of a knife-CURRENT PLACE OF RESIDENCE March 27-  
  
Peter looked up when someone knocked on his door. "Come in!" he called, closing the folder. Sophie entered.  
  
"Rowan's?"  
  
"Yeah. It's just, well, Christ! This kid has been through hell and seems content to stay. Dwayne said no one could get him to say anything about his past so all they have against his suspected abusers is just that, suspected abuse. I mean he's run away every time there's been suspected abuse. One guy put him in a coma and Rowan refused to say anything. There was a 5-year-old girl with Rowan too, and she stated that Rowan would be beaten and forced to commit acts of prostitution but because of her age and the fact Rowan wouldn't testify, the prostitution charges were dropped. She said the guy, his name is Frank, would threaten to kill her if Rowan wouldn't do what he wanted. He was only 11 for Christ's sake! I mean, only 11! I want to be the one who drags this kid from the darkness but..."  
  
"He may not want to b ragged out?"  
  
"Right." Peter let the comment sink in to both adults' systems. It was going to take a lot more than 3 months and nothing less than a miracle to help Rowan. 


	5. Outburst

Disclaimer: I DON'T OWN HIGHER GROUND SO DON'T SUE ME!!!!!!!! (Actually, if you do, you won't be getting anything since I have maybe 2 bucks to my name) I do own Rowan, Sara, their dad, and Alby who shows up later (that's a real name people) and any hells I put them through  
  
Rowan rested his forehead against the steamed mirror, his body still hot under his clothes from the shower he had taken. He felt him self relaxing into a memory. NO! he tried to say but was swept up  
  
Rowan and Sara lay on the bed they shared in the tiny 2-bedroom apartment with more problems than it was worth. Sara was telling Rowan an ancient myth, the story of Lemuria. "Ye see, Rowan, Lemuria was a' ancient island that sank a leng time ago."  
  
"Like Atlantis?" They had lived in America for less than a year and already Rowan could loose his accent when he wanted to. He always had a gift for languages. 7 years old and he could speak 4, Gaelic, Gypsy, English all from living in Ireland and German, which was taught to him by one of the men who worked with his father.  
  
"Yea, like Atlantis." His sister stopped talking when they hard the front door slam open and heard two pairs of drunken feet clump in. But it wasn't a hooker; it was a scruffy guy who looked about 30 or so.  
  
"You," said their father, pointing at Rowan, "Ge t' sleep. You," pointing at Sara, "ge yer ass out here." When she didn't move he walked over and pulled her of the bed by her hair, dragging her out of the room.  
  
"NO!" yelled Rowan and tried to follow but was punched in the stomach by the strange man.  
  
"Stay in here," he said drunkenly, throwing the slight 7 year old easily across the room. "You don't want to interrupt our fun, now do you?" Rowan got up and raced across the room but hit the closed door hard. The doorknob was reversed and he was locked in. He could hear his sister's cries of pain as the two men raped her over and over again. Desperately he threw himself against the door. If I can get out there, I'll never sleep with out a knife again, he cried to himself, trying to make deals with God. Soon her sobs slowed and quieted and the front door slammed. His father threw open the door and adjusted his zipper with one hand. With out a look at Rowan who was bruised from slamming his body against the heavy oak, the only part of the apartment that wasn't a piece of shit, he tossed Sara on the bed.  
  
Rowan leapt at him, wanting to kill him but his father just threw him across the room, chucking a beer bottle that caught the boy in the head. Before the blissful sleep though, Rowan just make out the roll of bills his father pocketed. Money he hadn't had when he had left. His eyes closed then.  
  
"Rowan! Rowan! What's going on!" yelled Scott from the other side of the door. Rowan stared at the cracked mirror and looked at his hand, still curled into a fist, the knuckles that were bloody with bits of glass,  
  
"Shit."  
  
(5 minutes later) Peter sat staring at Rowan who in the space of half a day had managed to be sent to his office twice. His knuckles were wrapped in a white bandage under the black batting gloves that he had worn since stepping foot on the grounds. No explanation had been given to his sudden out burst where he shattered a mirror. Peter sighed and picked up the phone to all Dwayne who wanted a report on EVERYTHING Rowan did. 


	6. Dishes

Disclaimer: I don't own these people! Well, I do own Rowan, capeesh? Thanks for your comment and I was looking back over the chapters and noticed I screwed up the schools name. Whoops! Thanx to those who corrected me. As for Rowan's accent, I know it's not normally that prominent but I'm trying to write it as people would hear it. If anyone really care's I'm changing Rowan's middle name to Tristan. If you know the meaning (riot or tumult) you get why. I just like that better. The song is Teenage Suicide By Unwritten Law and I probably didn't split it up right but I like it this way.  
  
Time's rollin' forward   
  
I'm gettin' bored  
  
layin' on my back  
  
I'm loozin' track  
  
shifting patterns  
  
and nothing' matters  
  
'cause there's no one here  
  
and I've lost my fear  
  
Kat stood drying one pile of dishes as Rowan handed them to her, one after another. She watched him for a few moments, then decide to make a stab at conversation. "So, where, in Ireland are you from?"  
  
"Down." Her confusion must have shown through her face because he rephrased his answer. "The county of Down in Ireland."  
  
"What town?"  
  
"Dunno. My mum never told me."  
  
"Um, ok." There was a pause for a few minutes as she tried to think of something else to say. Then she noticed the tattoos on his lower right arm: a doubled headed snake and above it, a monster with the chest and had of a man but the body of a horse. "Cool tattoos. They mean anything or just a drunken mistake?" He stopped washing and took his arm out the water to point with one soapy hand.  
  
"The serpent has to do with rain and an Aztec ritual where they would sacrifice kids. The centaur is a symbol or a man torn between good and evil. In case you want to analyze the music it's Unwritten Law. And yes, I always have my CD player with me. Are we playing 20 questions or something?"  
  
"Not unless you want to."  
  
"Not particularly. " he smiled and she felt herself grinning back. Those eyes are so cute, she thought to herself. Weird though, his hair isn't really black, just a dark brown.  
  
well I've got no place left to hide  
  
I'm running out of time  
  
moving slowly  
  
the walls are closing  
  
in on me  
  
I can not see  
  
appearing fine, well  
  
that's all a lie  
  
'cause I am not alright  
  
extinct inside  
  
I'm runnin' out of time  
  
"One last question?"  
  
"Only if I get to ask you one. Sumerian laws and all."  
  
"Deal." She stuck out her hand and he shook it slippery skin on skin and wet bandage. "Me first. How bad did it hurt to get pierced?"  
  
my mother says I'm fine  
  
a teenage suicide  
  
no place to hide  
  
well I've got no place left to hide  
  
no place to hide  
  
I'm runnin' out of time  
  
no place to hide  
  
ya, I've got no place left to hide  
  
no place to hide  
  
a teenage suicide  
  
"The ears hurt the least and the tongue next. I had to take those out when I got here though I'm not planning on repiercing my tongue. It got annoying after a while, getting in the way when I made out with someone." He shot a glance at her to see how she took that sentence but her face must have betrayed nothing because he kept talking. " I keeping the other two because they hurt like hell to get. My turn."  
  
"Okey doke."  
  
"Umm, yeah. What's it like here? Group and dating and shit."  
  
"Well, no one's dating. Scott and Jules used to but are still friends. Shuns or dish duty is basically punishment. It's normally cleaning out the bathrooms or kitchen help. Group is everyday and twice a day on weekends. In good weather we'll go for hikes and stuff. School is every weekday and we get homework. I don't know what else to say."  
  
"That's good enough." He turned off the water and went to the paper towels to dry off his hands. She watched him and noticed how his shirt had risen up a little revealing another tattoo on his back.  
  
"What's that tattoo mean?" He twisted around fast and fixed his shirt.  
  
"How much did you see?" he asked desperately, demandingly.  
  
"Just the very bottom. Why?" He just shook his head and left. Kat looked after him and turned off the water, sighing. She hoped he'd realize soon that walking away all the time was just going to get him followed. 


	7. Urban Legend

Disclaimer- I own no one but Alby, Rowan, and Dwayne, Rupert (THAT IS THE FUNNIEST NAME EVER SRY. TO ALL YOU RUPERTS THOUGH) and Jasper and anyone else I forget to mention here. The song? Your Winter by Sister Hazel (awesome song!)  
  
The gray ceiling on the earth  
  
Well it's lasted for a while  
  
Take my thoughts for what they're worth  
  
I've been acting like a child  
  
Your opinion what is that  
  
It's just a different point of view  
  
(One week later) "Hey Peter! There's some one here to see you!" called Daisy.  
  
"Let 'em in!" Three people entered Peter's office, Dwayne and a teenage boy with light hair and eyes, and a balding man who as slightly overweight. "Another one?" asked Peter. "We haven't received any files."  
  
"That's because we're all here to see Rowan. As you know, I'm supposed to some up here weekly. This," he motioned to the boy, "is a friend of Rowan's, Alby. Alby," he said, turning to the teen and speaking slowly and deliberately, "this is Peter. This man is Rowan's foster father, Rupert Johnson."  
  
"Hello. May I go see Rowan?" asked Alby, signing as he spoke. Peter must have looked confused because Alby told him, "I'm part deaf so I speak and sign at the same time so if someone knows one or the other we can communicate better."  
  
"Oh. Yeah, sure. I guess you can see Rowan if its ok with Dwayne. He's in his dorm." Peter gave instructions and turned to the other man.  
  
Rowan lay on his back, smoking his last cigarette. All the others he had been careful to smoke out side at night but this was his last one, so why not? He was the only one in the dorm any ways. He stared at the black and white picture in his hands. It was him, age 3, a laughing girl of about 12 with dark hair and light eyes like his and a man around 19 with light hair and dark eyes. They were al laughing for the camera, dressed in bright clothes and with lots of circus make up on. Rowan heard someone enter the room and shut the door. He jumped up and shoved the photo under his pillow, dropping the cig and grinding it out. Alby stared back at him. "ALBY!" he shouted and signed. The two friends embraced in a quick hug. "What are you doing here?" he signed and said [ok, I'm not writing signed and said anymore so just assume they're doing that. Use those thinking caps! Did I rally just type that? Uugh. Excuse me whilst I go vomit]  
  
"Visiting you. I wouldn't recommend going out the door though."  
  
"Why?" Rowan walked to the door and slammed it shut fast, locking it. Peter, Dwayne and the tub form hell. Great. He grabbed his CD player and motioning to Alby walked over to the first floor window [ground floor what ev.] and jumped down. Alby follow d him and they stared to walk.  
  
What else what else can I do  
  
I said I'm sorry yeah I'm sorry  
  
I said I'm sorry but for what  
  
If I hurt you then I hate myself  
  
I don't want to hate myself so I don't want to hurt you  
  
Why do you choose your pain if you only knew  
  
How much I love you (love you)  
  
They passed by Scott and Shelby and Daisy who were standing a few feet way. Still within their hearing range, they stopped when Dwayne called out their names and started after them. "Hey," said Alby loudly and signing. "You still faster than me?"  
  
"Course," said Rowan, equally as loud.  
  
"How long is the gully," he asked pointing to the near by (dry and dusty) ravine that ran for about a mile. Rowan smiled, understanding what Alby was trying to say.  
  
"Race you on one, two, -" Alby pushed him and started off.  
  
"You ass!" Rowan tore after him, running on the side of the ravine before jumping down the 7 or 8 feet. Scott and Shelby and Daisy looked at each other and then at Dwayne who was cursing like a sailor on shore leave. The four of them took off after the two laughing pair.  
  
I wont be your winter  
  
And I wont be anyone's excuse to cry  
  
And we cant be forgiven  
  
And I will be here  
  
Oh picture on the shelf  
  
Its been there for a while  
  
A frozen image of ourselves  
  
We were acting like a child  
  
Innocence in a trance  
  
A dance that lasted for a while  
  
Read my eyes just like a diary  
  
Oh remember please remember  
  
Well I'm not a beggar but once more  
  
If I hurt you then I hate myself  
  
I don't want to hate myself don't want to hurt you  
  
Why do you choose that pain  
  
if only you knew how much I love you (love you)  
  
******************************************************  
  
(5 minutes later) Rowan and Alby walked to the back of the ravine, talking about what had happened since the time 3 years ago when they and last seen each other and the 2 weeks ago when they had written. Alby handed him a book, signing that he would probably like it, then signed he had some art shit to give him that was in his book bag that was in Dwayne's car.  
  
"How'd you get Dwayne to drive you?"  
  
"Well, my dad was giving a lecture at a near by college and since it's spring break me and the pest came along with him and my mom. I was out walking on the side walk when Dwayne pulled up and asked if I wanted to go see you and I told my parents and here I am."  
  
"Bull. Your parents don't know because they wouldn't let you visit me because they think I'm a bad influence."  
  
"Yeah, true. But I'm here."  
  
I won't be your winter  
  
And I won't be anyone's excuse to cry  
  
And we cant be forgiven  
  
And I will be here  
  
"Thanks for coming."  
  
"No prob."  
  
"Well, at least out little nature walk proves I'm faster than you."  
  
"WHAT?! I out ran you!"  
  
"Who are you kidding? I had to stop and wait for you! Anyway I bet $10 Dwayne'll be the first one to get here. Then maybe Peter. ON the way back we'll find Tubernot lying dead because of the stress of walking 10 ft."  
  
Alby shook his head and pointed. "Don't think so. There's a parade coming." Rowan looked and saw Dwayne, Peter, Shelby, Scott and Daisy walking towards them with Rupert a few steps behind.  
  
"Oh no." Rowan walked over to the gnarled tree that wound its way up to the top of the ravine wall, now 20 ft. he turned up the radio so the walls seemed to vibrate with the heavy music.  
  
"Rowan, no!" Dwayne shouted and started to run over but to no avail; the youth was already scaling the tree. He made it to the top branch and lay on the cliff top. "Do you have any idea how annoying you are!" called Dwayne.  
  
"A pretty good one." Rowan adjusted his headphones and his spot on the warm rock, soaking up the sun with his semi-pale Irish skin. Peter sighed and started up the tree although not as quickly or deftly as Rowan had. When he adjusted himself on the rock beside Rowan, he sat up startled. "What the!" He smiled. "You're the first to come after me. Congrats."  
  
I wont be your winter  
  
And I wont be anyones excuse to cry  
  
And we cant be forgiven  
  
And I will be here  
  
"Why'd you do this?"  
  
"Didn't want to be by the foster."  
  
"No, run out here."  
  
"To see who was faster, Alby or me."  
  
"Why did you really do it?"  
  
"Every place needs an urban legend."  
  
"Really."  
  
"yeah. In 5, 10 years this harmless prank will probably turn into two friends our running banditos or something like that."  
  
"Did JuV have a lot of urban legends?"  
  
"Tons. The kids who died in the showers, monsters in the dorms, the girl who went into the woods and never came out, the kid who was almost killed by his fellow delinquents. You know, same old stuff."  
  
"Are any true?"  
  
"Probably based on truth. Like the dieing in showers, a bunch of kids slit their wrists in the showers and then got shipped off to asylums. Monsters in the dorm room, probably older kids scaring the younger ones. Some girl probably went into the woods on a nature hike and ran. When they found her they shipped her off some place else but since no one else saw her she 'disappeared'."  
  
I wont be your winter  
  
And I wont be anyones excuse to cry  
  
And we cant be forgiven  
  
And I will be here  
  
"And the kid who almost died?"  
  
"I know someone that happened to."  
  
"Do tell."  
  
"He got into a fight with another kid over something. The counselor let them fight because of pecking order and stuff. Something distracted him and he left the room. 3 of the other guy's friends jumped in. One had a knife and the other a screwdriver. When the counselor came back in, he found my friend lying on the floor bleeding really badly. The worse part? He couldn't fall into a coma so he had to live with the pain of a shattered arm and cracked ribs. After he got out of the hospital he was given the decision between another JuV or Mt. Horizon. I chose Mt. Horizon because it didn't sound like there would be kids slitting their wrists in the showers with pencils or screaming in their sleep and shaking uncontrollably because of drug withdrawal."  
  
"You'd give back as good as you got?"  
  
"I give one kid a broken nose and the other broke a few fingers but it was 4 on 1, not exactly fair teams."  
  
"True." 


	8. Talk

Disclaimer: I don't own higher ground (u people should get this by now)  
  
Rowan ignored Peter who was babbling away about responsibility and rules and things that didn't apply to him. He interrupted the blather with, "I'll come down if you get him to leave."  
  
"Dwayne?"  
  
"No idiot, the foster."  
  
"Why?"  
  
Rowan ignored him and remembered a something that wasn't too painful.  
  
"Where have you been?" screamed the Tubernot.  
  
"Out."  
  
"Where have you been?!" He had been slapped then, a stinging sensation across the front of his face. The game continued for another hour, he just kept answering wrong and was slapped for it. He didn't care, something was weighing on him, the realization of what tomorrow was- Sara's dea- He shook his head hard. No, he didn't want to think about that. "What's wrong with you? You gonna give me a straight answer?"  
  
"You gonna lose 50 lbs so you can ride the elevator like anyone else?" Tubernot growled and would have slapped the boy again, but his wife stopped him.  
  
"He has to sleep," said the shrew, "if he misses more school than they'll take him away and when that happens no more monthly checks."  
  
"Oh that would be horrible, right? You would have to pay for your daughter's college all on your own."  
  
"Go to your room!" Rowan was happy to oblige. He stalked in and climbed under the covers, not bothering to remove his shoes. He knew he'd kick them off in his sleep like always. He heard the door open softly and half asleep; he looked up to see Jessie.  
  
"Hey, cutie," she said, leaning down to kiss him on the lips. She slid slowly on to the covers.  
  
"Not tonight Jessie, a'ight? My face is swollen as anything after my little talk with your father."  
  
"What do you mean, not tonight? Tonight or I tell my dad. Who's he going to believe, me the poor innocent victim, or you the 15 year old punk no one likes who raped your 17 year old foster sister?" Rowan sighed and moved back the covers. "That's what I thought." She was kissing him, running her hands up and down his back, sliding off his pants while shimming out of hers. He kissed her back, had sex with her, but his heart wasn't in it. It never was.  
  
"Rowan? Rowan?"  
  
"Huh? What?"  
  
"I've been saying your name for a while now. Mr. Rupert left, you can climb down now." Rowan looked down and saw how a few feet away the wall sloped down gradually. He jumped up and walked over, then slid down quickly, feeling the dirt slide under his feet and landing with a cloud of dust.  
  
"Smooth move kid. You've impressed us all. Now it's time to talk," said Dwayne, coming over and throwing his arm on Rowan. Rowan shrugged it off but it was put right back up. "What the HELL WERE YOU TRYING TO PULL?!"  
  
"Halt den Mund," muttered Rowan, not feeling in a chatterbox mood.  
  
"Oh that's nice, German. You know, the day you got arrested, you were screaming in German at the kid. Then you switched to Gaelic. Did you notice that?"  
  
"Haken yaken ya."  
  
"What are we saying now? Greek?"  
  
"Try Yiddish for go shit in the ocean. The other was German for shut up. Please follow both."  
  
(5 minutes later)  
  
"Come on kid!" Dwayne slammed his hand down on the table. "Just give us something to go on, anything! A scar, a bruise! You know how much you telling would help get your father's ass in jail? Or how about your mother's? Those other assholes that are suspected of hitting kids, namely… you! Say something!"  
  
"I don't care," said Rowan quietly, eyes on the floor.  
  
"How can you not care? Don't you care about anything?!"  
  
"Yeah, have you heard from Jasper lately?"  
  
Dwayne's voice changed to become softer, sighing, "Kid, no on' hard from Jasper in 5 years."  
  
"Who's Jasper?" asked Sophie, interrupting the battle between the two.  
  
"No one," said Rowan quickly, eyes back on the ground, arms still folded.  
  
"Is it you, you're worrying about?" asked Dwayne gently, "because-"  
  
"You know it's not! You should have realized by now I don't care about my own skin!" Rowan jumped up angry; he pushed up on his sleeve and exposed wrist slashes, now scars. "These weren't attention cuts!" Peter's eyes were drawn to the marks left by needles, not by suicide attempts. "You can't say I'm insane because you know I'm not! My records back it up!"  
  
"How'd you get that scar on your face?" asked Peter quietly, suddenly. Rowan was caught off guard, as he hoped he would be.  
  
"Beaten with a broken bottle."  
  
"Beaten?"  
  
"No, bashed."  
  
"You said beaten."  
  
"Well, I meant bashed Jung." Rowan turned to stare out the window, tuning out the 3 adults in the room. Sophia tapped her nails on his files thinking and he turned suddenly. "Can I see my files?" She nodded and he took them across the room, his back blocking what ever he was doing.  
  
Rowan flipped through the papers. He passed reports, police pics, and hospital pic until he came to the one he wanted, the one of him and a laughing girl. He was 6 and she was 15. He took it out and put it carefully into his pocket. He continued to flip through, looking for any other normal pictures but found none. He turned a moment later, the papers a blaze. He threw them on the ground and tossed Dwayne the lighter he had taken from him, keeping the cigs. "Pick pocketing's a lost art," he said to the group of 3 trying to salvage the extra crispy white sheets. "Hope you had extras." 


	9. Daisy and Rowan convo

Disclaimer: You know it and I know it, I don't own Higher Ground or it's characters. By the way people- you know what's fun? How about getting reviews? I'm getting maybe one or two every 5 or 6 days. That's just wrong. PLEASE R&R!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
Outside  
  
Alby ran to catch up with his friend. Fun as it was to check out the hot girls and read their lips as they made comments about him and his cuteness, the friendship between him and Rowan came first. It could be a pain in the ass sometimes, but it still came first. He tapped Rowan on the shoulder and ducked the punch he had guessed was coming. Rowan turned breathing hard his face a mask, although, when Alby thought about it, his face was always a mask. They had been friends since age 11 and Alby still knew only the bare bones of Rowan's earlier life. He didn't mind so much; Rowan was more of the strong silent type. He didn't fit the normal Aries model, as he had told Alby one time, half drunk. Alby disagreed though, secretly. Rowan was brave and would rush into fights without a regard for himself. When he wanted to he could be funnier than anyone and talk more than Arby's sister Leeann.  
  
"Sorry, I'm- I'm not in the most sociable mood at the moment," signed and said Rowan. Alby remembered how when they first met Rowan had spoken slowly and made an attempt to learn how to sign, unlike other would be friends who forgot or didn't care. Rowan had treated him like a real person, never condescending.  
  
"Is it me?"  
  
"No! You'd be the last person to annoy me! It's just…" Rowan ran his fingers through his hair and fiddled with the dog tags on his neck. It was a nervous habit Alby knew well.  
  
"Dwayne?"  
  
"Partly. The foster too. Both at the same time does not make for a happy Rowan."  
  
"Does anything?"  
  
"Hey!" Rowan good-naturedly hit him on the shoulder. "Look, you better get going. Tell your parents and Leann I said hey. K?"  
  
"Yeah, sure. Are the colored pencils alright?"  
  
"Better than. Thanks for the sketch pad too."  
  
"Hey, no prob. Keep doing your angry art thing and then when we turn 18 I'll be your manager and we'll sell it."  
  
"You are so going to Wall Street."  
  
"Yeah, maybe. Stay cool man."  
  
"Slán," said Rowan while signing Good-Bye. Alby nodded and went to go sit in the car where a very pissed-off looking Dwayne waited. Something tells me this won't be a fun ride back, he thought to himself.  
  
Daisy looked at Rowan who sitting on the steps out side Peter's office, waiting for something. Gathering up her courage she walked over to the boy she thought was cute but couldn't decide whether punk or Goth or what. Even though his headphones covered his ears and music trickled out his head still turned when she sat down by him cautiously. "What music are you listening to?" she asked, trying to keep her voice level.  
  
"Bob Marley."  
  
"What?" She couldn't help laughing. Of all the possible bands… He smiled exposing his dimples.  
  
"What can I say, it's a classic? Buffalo Soldier is a kick ass song."  
  
"Are all your CDs classics?" She couldn't help asking.  
  
"Some like The Sex Pistols and the Ramones. I've got other stuff too, from Nirvana and Pearl Jam to Green Day and The Offspring."  
  
"Do you like Placebo?"  
  
"Yeah, they're ok. Them and The Dropkick Murphys, Unwritten Law, Adema. They're all all right. Come with me after group and I'll show you my CD collection."  
  
"OK." Peter walked out then and handed Rowan a piece of paper. He read it and laughed, then shoved it in his pocket.  
  
"Ready for group?" asked Peter, pushing the cheerful factor.  
  
"Is that possible?" asked Rowan and Daisy at the same time, then looked at each other and smiled. They walked ahead of Peter, not saying anything until Daisy asked, "Can I see your necklace?" Rowan pulled out the chain with the dog tags; taking it off he handed it to her. She looked at them and passed them back, saying, "Well I now know Tristan is your middle name and your blood type is AB. If I'm ever on Jeopardy I'll be well prepared." Rowan smiled and tucked the tags into his shirt.  
  
"You know, that's the first time I've taken that thing off in a long time."  
  
"How long?"  
  
"Try years."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"It was given to me by someone who died so I, well I-"  
  
"Didn't want to take it off?" The two turned at the sound of Peter's voice, having forgotten he was there.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Hey Rowan? By any chance did your si-?"  
  
"Well look where we are," interrupted Rowan as the 3 entered the room where the rest of the group was. Peter started off the group by asking them to each tell what they couldn't do. He started off by throwing the stick to Shelby.  
  
"Juggle." She threw the stick to Ezra.  
  
"Walk on my hands." He threw the stick to Kat.  
  
"Speak another language." The stick was then tossed to Daisy.  
  
"Ride an unicycle." She handed the stick to Rowan.  
  
"Swim," he stated and was about to throw the stick to Auggie but Daisy stopped him with a quick hand to his.  
  
"What'd you mean, swim?"  
  
"I never learned."  
  
"How-but?" He shrugged and tossed the stick to Auggie who caught it with pure reflex; still dumbfounded that someone wouldn't know how to swim. The stick continued in a circle until it got back to Shelby who looked that Peter in question.  
  
"State something you can do that someone else in the group said they couldn't do." They went around in the same order again and when they got to Rowan, he stated, "Juggle, Walk on my hands and speak a couple of languages."  
  
"Which ones?" asked Sophie.  
  
"Which what?"  
  
"Languages."  
  
"Irish, English, Slang, German, Yiddish and Greek somewhat, and French. Why?"  
  
"Just curious."  
  
"Yeah, well now you know." He tossed the stick to Auggie. The stick made it's way around again, ending with Scott who said he knew how to type (what Auggie said he couldn't do). "So the point of this was what?" asked Rowan.  
  
"Well, this is to show you we can all do some things and can't do others. Now, you guys will all be starting a new writing section: poetry!" The groans began. "You'll all have to keep a notebook and write in it your assignments. Each day for homework you'll be give in an assignment for the next day, a type of poem to write. Than we'll discuss our poems and the genre we're writing in. Come get your notebooks." They walked up to the front and took their notebooks but Peter had one extra. He looked and saw Rowan hadn't taken one. "Come on Rowan, it won't bite."  
  
"This is stupid," he muttered.  
  
"What was that?" asked Sophie.  
  
"Dies ist stockdumm." [This is utterly stupid-German]  
  
"Is English going to be a problem?" asked Peter, getting pissed.  
  
"Das will ich meinen." [I should say so- German]  
  
"Talk in English!" said Sophie.  
  
"Why? Why should I have to speak your language and not one of mine? If someone else came here and English was their second language, you wouldn't have cared if they relapsed into another. So why am I special? Why can't I speak my native language, which is, if you want to know, Irish, which isn't slang but a language all on its own, or does that not matter?" He turned and left then, heading for the dorms, sinking into another memory….  
  
"Well, Rowan, why are you here?" asked Dr. Samson, to the scared looking 7-year old.  
  
"Because I got in trouble."  
  
"Why'd you get in trouble?"  
  
"I hit another kid."  
  
"Why'd you do that?"  
  
"He took my toy."  
  
"Shouldn't you have told a teacher?"  
  
"But back in Ire-"  
  
"We're not in Ireland," said Dr. Samson patiently, not really paying attention, waiting for his next break so he could go have a quick smoke. Quitting was really getting to him and he just needed one.  
  
"But that's how my daddy solves everything, when me and my sister are bad."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
"Is that how you got that bruise," asked Mr. Samson, pointing to a large black and blue spot on Rowan's arm.  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
"Well your teacher tells me you got that playing outside."  
  
"That's what I said but-"  
  
"Listen, Rowan, I didn't know what you got away with in your last school, but here you can't just make up stories because you want attention! Now I talked to your father a few weeks ago and he was a very nice man-so forgive the fact I don't believe you. I've been principle at this school for longer than you've been living and this isn't the first time some one ahs made up a story and got everyone in an uproar because they wanted attention. Now get back to class and no more fights!" Rowan gave up protesting and walked back to his room. He was going to get the belt tonight… 


	10. Nothing to do w/ anything

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone but Rowan and c/o. If I did own Hayden Christensen. Well, lets just say he'd be mine! All mine! Sry. It's taken me so long to upgrade- my computer doesn't like me. I can't think of why. Oh wait, maybe b/c I have the bad habit of screaming at electronics. That could explain it… Not to mention school is basically a waste of time but the majority of the adults in my life disagree. I think they all just have a selective memory.  
  
Daisy walked into the boy's dorm to see Rowan lying on his bed, sketching in the poetry notebook everyone had been given. Hearing Auggie and Ezra behind her, she went to stand by Rowan. "Hey," she said.  
  
"Hey." She watched him doodle the word Wicked.  
  
Something about the word was nagging at her mind. She thought she knew what it was but went over to where Auggie and Ezra sat looking a pic of Brittany Spears [EWWWWW!!!!! God why are guys obsessed with her?]. "Hey Auggie?"  
  
"Yeah?" he answered, not removing his eyes from the golden pop star.  
  
"Didn't you tell me once about that tag-artist you liked, named Wicked or something?"  
  
"Yeah, prob'y. Why? You see some of their stuff?"  
  
"Um, not quite. I think it's more like he's laying on his bed in this dorm."  
  
"What?!" Auggie jumped up and went to stand with Daisy by Rowan's bed. He looked up with a confused expression on his face. He removed his headphones and asked, "Did I miss something?"  
  
"You're wicked!" said Auggie, practically yelling.  
  
"Depending on how you look at it-"  
  
"No you're tag is wicked!"  
  
"Yeah, why?"  
  
"You're stuff was awesome! But they said wicked was shot."  
  
"They weren't lying." Rowan sat up and lifted a corner of his shirt exposing a small circular scar. "I was told before going to JuV that if they caught me tagging again they weren't going to do anything to keep me from being shot by the next gang I pissed off." Daisy listened as Auggie and Rowan talking tagging for a while, growing annoyed. Finally she opened her mouth and screamed. The three boys turned towards her.  
  
"Look, I'd hate to break up the vandalism fest but I thought I was here to look at you CDs." Rowan looked confused and then said, "O," real slowly. He pulled out his cd booklet and tossed it to her. She almost dropped it; heavy as it was. She made a mental list of the CDs:  
  
Nirvana- In Utero  
  
Nevermind  
  
Green Day- Kerplunk  
  
Dookie  
  
Insomniac  
  
Nimrod  
  
Warning  
  
Unwritten Law- ELVA  
  
Unwritten Law  
  
Adema- Adema  
  
The Ramones- Hey! Ho! Let's Go: The Anthology  
  
Pearl Jam- ten  
  
Bob Marley- Legend  
  
The Sex Pistols- Never Mind The Bollocks, Here's The Sex Pistols  
  
Staind- Break the Cycle  
  
Linkin Park- Hybrid Theory  
  
John Mayer- Room for Squares  
  
The Drop Kick Murphys- Sing it loud, Sing it proud  
  
The Offspring- Americana  
  
Placebo- Without You I'm Nothing  
  
Puddle of Mudd- Comes Clean  
  
Matchbox Twenty- Yourself or Someone Like You  
  
The Doors-The Best of the Doors  
  
Nirvana- Nevermind  
  
Bleach  
  
In Utero  
  
A/N- THIHS CHAPTER HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH ANYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HAHAHAHAHA! (yea, I'm a lil' psychotic today) 


	11. Nightmare

Disclaimer: I don't own Higher Ground! (and if I did a lot of interesting things would be happening)  
  
Tuesday Night  
  
Ezra woke up to some one muttering in their sleep, an event not odd in it's self, but the person seemed to be getting louder. He let his feet drape over the side of his bunk and listened for a second, but the words were indistinguishable, however he recognized the voice. He jumped down and padded over to Rowan's bunk, which was under Scott's. Scott was already awake and standing over the youth, whose face was contorted with emotions. "Ro-" started Ezra, but Scott waved him silent.  
  
"Sara-no-Sara-no-Sara-no," mumbled Rowan in one long strand of words. He twisted in his sleep and began to get louder "Oh god no! Sara! No! Bullet-gun-blood-no! Sara! No! God, no!" Auggie was up now.  
  
"Rowan wake up" he said reaching out a hand to shake the thrashing shoulder.  
  
"SARA!" screamed Rowan.  
  
"Rowan!" yelled Ezra and Scott as one and Ezra reached out to shake the boy hard. Rowan sat up, breathing hard and gasping, black shirt drenched with sweat.  
  
"What- what happened?"  
  
"You had a nightmare," commented Scott, starting to climb back into his bed.  
  
"Nightmare?"  
  
"Yeah, you were even screaming some chick's name, uh, Sara." Scott adjusted his covers, as it being early April and needed still.  
  
"S-Sara?" Rowan threw off his covers and stood quickly.  
  
"Yo man, you sleep with your sneakers on?" asked Auggie from under his sheets.  
  
"I- I need air." said Rowan as he strode from the room. His sweaty shirt stuck to his back and Ezra thought he saw a tattoo.  
  
*Rowan's POV*  
  
Rowan stood outside, slowly smoking his last cigarette. He had chain smoked the last 3 but hadn't noticed, too busy trying to calm his heart and mind. 


	12. The Kids Aren't Alright (Offspring song)

Disclaimer: I own Higher Ground (as you may have guessed). I own The Offspring's song, The Kids Aren't Alright. I rule the world, you pitiful fools! OK, um, yeah, on with the story.  
  
There was a comfortable silence around the dorm as the boys waited for sleep. Well, silent except for the music that Rowan's headphones emitted. "Hey man, could you have it any louder?" asked Auggie sarcastically. Ezra didn't hear the remark; too busy wondering when Rowan had come in least night. So it came as a bit of a shock (just a little bit though) when The Offspring began blasting from the speakers Rowan had pulled from underneath his bed and jacked into his CD player.  
  
When we were young the future was so bright  
  
The old neighborhood was so alive  
  
And every kid on the whole damn street  
  
Was gonna make it big and not be beat  
  
Peter burst in a moment later. "What the heck!" his voice sounding feeble to the music that blasted, shaking the room. He went over to Rowan and tried to figure out how to turn down the volume, Rowan being of no help- lying under the covers with an angelic look on his face.  
  
Now the neighborhood's cracked and torn  
  
The kids are grown up but their lives are worn  
  
How can one little street  
  
Swallow so many lives  
  
"What's going on?" asked Peter angrily. Ezra couldn't blame him- 11:30 was not exactly happy hour for most people, well, except for bat people, but as Mt. Horizon had none of those Ezra had a feeling a lot of other people weren't feeling in a jovial sort of mood. One of the angry was Scott who and been falling asleep when Rowan's detonation of music caused him to hit his head on the ceiling.  
  
Chances thrown  
  
Nothing's free  
  
Longing for what used to be  
  
Still it's hard  
  
Hard to see  
  
Fragile lives, shattered dreams  
  
"Do you mind?" asked Rowan, sounding as if he was at a quiet tea party, not next to speakers from which music poured at concert-level. "I'm trying to sleep."  
  
"Haven't your ear drums exploded by now?" asked Auggie.  
  
"I'm sorry, I can't quite make out what you're saying. Please write a note and give it to me in the morning."  
  
Jamie had a chance, well she really did  
  
Instead she dropped out and had a couple of kids  
  
Mark still lives at home cause he's got no job  
  
He just plays guitar and smokes a lot of pot  
  
"Oh, funny. You have such a great sense of humor," said Peter, "NOW TURN IT DOWN!"  
  
"Could you repeat that?"  
  
"That's it- to my office. I'm calling Dwayne."  
  
"Oh no. Anything but that," Rowan grasped his chest in fake horror. "He might- gasp- yell at me. Or," he gave a fake sob, "tell me I'm a bad boy. My delicate nature can't stand such negative abuse."  
  
Jay committed suicide  
  
Brandon OD'd and died  
  
What the hell is going on  
  
The cruelest dream, reality  
  
(5 minutes later)  
  
"I can't believe you Rowan!" shouted Dwayne, on speakerphone, "Do you know what time it is!"  
  
"Actually no. What time is it?"  
  
"Midnight!"  
  
"I'm glad you informed me. I was worried for a moment there."  
  
"First refusing to write poetry, acting up, now this?! Take me off speaker, "Rowan cautiously held the phone to his ear, in case Dwayne began screaming again. "Look, Rowan, if you blow this place you might not see Ireland until you're 18."  
  
"But they can't do that. Won't I just be deported back if I act up enough?"  
  
"No. You were a minor when the court gained custody of you and since your mom is an American citizen and you have dual citizenship, you can be kept here until age 18." Dwayne paused, to let this remark sink in. "If Mount Horizon isn't your deal, we can transfer you to the other facility we had in mind. Would you-"  
  
"No. Look I'll be a good boy and eat all my peas from now on. Go back to sleep." Rowan hung up the phone.  
  
Chances thrown  
  
Nothing's free  
  
Longing for what used to be  
  
Still it's hard  
  
Hard to see  
  
Fragile lives, shattered dreams  
  
Peter looked at Rowan, who stared out the window into the inky black matter that the stars pierced with weak shafts of light. "We'll discuss your punishment tomorrow. For now, go back to your dorms. Try to keep the music low, though?"  
  
"Right-o captain. I'll be sure to play nice with the other children too." Rowan got up and walked to the door. Peter stared at the retreating form that seemed at home in the darkness. 3 weeks and he still didn't know what to make of Rowan. He wondered if he'd ever.  
  
A/N- People, I want reviews. Pretty please? A cheery on top? The first 3 reviewers kept a cookie with brownie and a sundae. OK, they won't, you'll get a figurative cookie with a brownie and a sundae. You lucky people (that's the best line in the play Tommy, in case you were wondering) 


	13. When I Grow Up- Grabage Song (R/R pls)

A/N- if you don't like song fics, too bad b/c I do so hahahahahaha. Actually that gives me an idea, a story made completely of song fics! HAHAHA! I lauf at ur pitiful attempts to review (2 reviews. What's that about) Oh well, on with the story in which I don't own higher ground! Or the song when I grow up by garbage  
  
Saturday  
  
Cut my tongue out, I've been caught out  
  
Like a giant juggernaut  
  
Happy hours, golden showers  
  
On a cruise to freak you out  
  
Dwayne gritted his teeth as they pulled into Mt. Horizon. Something about Rowan always set him off. He looked into the review mirror to check on J.J, who sat playing happily with a Harry Potter Doll.  
  
We could fly a helicopter  
  
Nothing left to talk about  
  
Entertain you, celebrate you  
  
I'll be back to frame you  
  
Rowan walked over to Dwayne's car, not bothering with formalities. "I need a cigarette." Dwayne stepped out of the car and put his hand protectively over his pocket.  
  
"No!"  
  
"Come on, please? I've gone 3 days…. I NEED A CIG DAMN IT! Don't make me beg……………"  
  
Dwayne sighed. "One- you're begging. Two- you can have one now and if you're a good boy you can have one later."  
  
"Sure what ever." Rowan sucked hungrily on the white stick's smoke eagerly. He caught sight of the little boy with black cornrows clutching a doll sitting in the backseat, staring at him with a look that hinted on confusion and mixed with wonder. For a moment he saw himself as he must appear to strangers: white, muscular but skinny, black-blue-blond short dreads and blue eyes. Someone who wore an Army Jacket but then only dark clothes underneath. Reflexively he stamped out the cigarette. "Hey, who's the kid? I didn't think you were divorced."  
  
"I'm not. This-" Dwayne motioned to the kid who was climbing out the back seat, still clutching his doll, "is J.J. he's my sister's son. I agreed to watch him today, not really paying attention an when I tried to back out she refused since she's taking his sister shopping for P-R-E-S-E-N- T-S. It's his B-I-R-T-H-D-A-Y in a month but his twin wants to get them now."  
  
When I grow up I'll be stable  
  
When I grow up I'll turn the tables  
  
Trying hard to fit among you  
  
Floating out to wonderland  
  
Unprotected, God I'm pregnant  
  
Damn the consequences  
  
"What's your name," asked J.J  
  
"Rowan," said Rowan as he kneeled on th ground so he was eye to eye with the little boy.  
  
"How old are you?  
  
"16."  
  
"I'm 5 and I'm gonna be 6 soon and get P-R-E-S-N-T-S." Rowan cracked up at the shocked look on Dwayne's face.  
  
When I grow up I'll be stable  
  
When I grow up I'll turn the tables  
  
Blood and blisters on my fingers  
  
Chaos rules when we're apart  
  
Watch my temper I go mental  
  
I'll try to be gentle  
  
"You're cool kid."  
  
"You're cool too."  
  
"Thanks," Rowan gave a half smile.  
  
"Hey, wanna see 'sumptin?" Rowan shrugged as Harry Potter was placed carefully into his hands. J.J carefully executed a cartwheel, his little tan stomach showing for a moment. Rowan placed the toy back into waiting hands and said, "I can do something like that," he stood and did a handless cartwheel then flipped in mid air tot eh eyes of J.J, Dwayne, and Kat who had wandered over.  
  
Dwayne whistled and Kat asked jokingly, "Where'd you learn to do that? The circus?"  
  
"Actually," said Rowan, "yeah. I was raise din the circus, 'till I was like 7. Then I moved to America. I just never forgot the lessons."  
  
"Oh really," said Kat with just a (slight) tone of disbelief, "ok circus boy, what did you do in the circus?"  
  
"I did acro- acrobatics, tumbling and I threw knives. A handy little skill if I do say so myself."  
  
When I grow up I'll be stable  
  
When I grow up I'll turn the tables  
  
When I grow up  
  
When I grow up  
  
When I grow up I'll turn the tables  
  
"Show me more!" cried J.J. Rowan laughed and tucked in his loose baggy shirt. He started with a cartwheel and began to flip and tumble. When he finished he turned to Kat's wide mouth and J.J's awestruck eyes.  
  
"Can you teach me to do that?" asked J.J in a voice filled with wonder.  
  
"I can teach you to walk on your hands."  
  
"OK!" J.J turned to Kat and said, "hold him please," shoving the doll into her hands. He started to run up to Rowan, then turned and came back, "Don't drop him or mess with his hair like girls do or play with him and get him dirty and, and …"  
  
Don't take offence  
  
Can I make amends?  
  
Rip it up to shreds and let it go  
  
Don't take offence  
  
Can I make amends?  
  
Rip it up to shreds and let it go  
  
Rip it up to shreds and let it go  
  
Rip it up to shreds and let it go  
  
Rip it up in shreds and let it go  
  
How you like it best, you let me know 


	14. Pointles Questions

Disclaimers: I only own J.J, Rowan and Dwayne. GO ME!!!  
  
(Still Saturday)  
  
"Hey, why don't we skip the pointless questions and you can just yell at me?" asked Rowan quickly as he sat down in Peter's office to the looks of Dwayne, Sophia, and Peter.  
  
"Hey Rowan I saw you teaching J.J to walk on his hands," said Sophia. "He seems to really like you." Rowan shrugged.  
  
"Cool kid."  
  
"It was funny to see you teach Scott though."  
  
"Yeah, him and Ezra. That was sorta amusing."  
  
"Yeah it was, " said Dwayne. "But we still have-"  
  
"You talked to Jasper lately?"  
  
"No." Dwayne sighed. "Look, Rowan-"  
  
"So are we done?"  
  
"No." said Peter. "We're not. At some point you're going to have to talk. You realize this right?"  
  
"Actually I don't. I have every right to privacy. I'm planning on just sitting out my last 2 months and then running. Possibly hopping a nice plane to Ireland."  
  
"We'll find you, you know," said Sophia.  
  
"I beg to differ. Have you ever tried to find a Pikey who doesn't want to be found? I think not. I know Ireland better then I know myself. You're not gonna find me there."  
  
"Fine, we won't find you. So until then, we'll just question you more often. Rowan, we need for you to tell us what people did to you. Frank is going up for parole. Do you want him to get out?" A momentary spasm of pain crossed Rowan's face and although Peter noticed it he wondered if Dwayne would catch up on it and work it to the bone.  
  
"What if Frank gets out and comes after the little girl who was in his care with you? What's her name again?"  
  
"You know her name, " said Rowan, low.  
  
"Jessica? Jennifer? Jill?"  
  
"Janna."  
  
"What if Frank comes after her? She's old enough to be considered a nice target. What if..."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
" Or how about if Frank gets in touch with some guys who can get him a few new kids. You wanna be responsible for other kids?"  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"What about the other people who currently can't foster kids or adopt because of you. Pretty soon some of them could. You wanna be responsible for those kids? Huh?"  
  
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" screamed Rowan, and threw Peter's glass ball paperweight across the room where it shattered into a thousand pieces, crystal tears, washing down the wall, identical to the ones Sophia could imagine raining from Rowan's face. His dry eyes glared as he stamped from the room.  
  
They watched from the window as Rowan went over to where J.J was playing with Auggie and Shelby. He said something to him and started to leave, to head towards the dorms. J.J tossed the doll to Shelby and ran after Rowan, then jumped on his back. Rowan turned around and J.J hugged him around the waist. Awkwardly Rowan patted J.J's back. J.J said something and Rowan smiled. Kneeling down he said something back and J.J hugged him again. Rowan gave him a high five and then walked into the dorms.  
  
Dwayne waited a few minutes to give Rowan a chance to calm down then followed him into the dorms. Rowan was lying on his bunk staring at the bottom of Scott's bunk. He had a knife out and was carving something into the wood. Dwayne cleared his throat several times, but Rowan didn't look up, too engrossed in the music that emitted from his headphones.  
  
Only when Dwayne stood next to Rowan did he look up in surprise. Reluctantly he handed over the switchblade, and then turned on his side to face the wall. Dwayne reached down and turned off the cd player. "Do you mind?" Rowan's voice showed no signs of cracking.  
  
"No. Why do you refuse to answer any of the questions?"  
  
"Because it won't do shit. Why can't you accept that?"  
  
"Because I think until you do speak of your past you don't have a future."  
  
"Yeah, what ever. Can you go now?"  
  
"I'll see you next week." Dwayne started to turn away, and then came back. "Oh by the way, we need to talk about your grades. You're failing everything. You were passing English with C's until you pulled your anti-poetry thing."  
  
"I'm getting Ds!"  
  
"That's considered failing here, Rowan. You might want to try doing the work."  
  
"Yeah, whatever."  
  
Dwayne sighed and walked out the dorm. 


	15. Shower Scene (ok, ppl, don't get the wro...

Disclaimer: OK, if you want to read the disclaimers, go and look in earlier chapters. If not, on with the story!  
  
Note: I need feedback on the story made of song fics. Yes or no?  
  
(Still Saturday- a little later)  
  
Rowan turned on the water and let it stream onto him, needles from the shower head as they went from cold to burning hot to just right. Something was nagging in the back of his mind.  
  
Rowan leaned against the shower wall, letting the barely lukewarm water soak into his body, washing away sin that couldn't be cleansed from him.  
  
Rowan groaned and started to slide, his body slipping and sticking on the warming tile as he remembered a night from when he was 11.  
  
The curtain was shoved open and Frank stepped inside the shower stall. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he slurred.  
  
1 "Just, just-" Frank threw his body against the wall, his head and chest smacking hard. "No Frank, don't!" Rowan's body hit the wall with Frank's thrusts. The man left the room as the boy lay on the shower floor.  
  
2  
  
3 Rowan lay on the floor, letting the hot water blister and burn his skin. He shook, mind torturing his soul. 


	16. A/N

A/N –  
  
I'm sorry if the last chapter as confusing. The part that was Rowan's memory were in italics but that didn't happen. If you know how to upload something so it retains italics, please let me know. I'd like to that for an upcoming chapter. 


	17. Rude Awakening

Disclaimer- C'mon guys I don't own anyone but those I've made up. You must realize that by now.  
  
Late Saturday Night  
  
Scott was jarred awake by the feeling something was wrong. He thought he saw two figures standing by him, both wrapped in shadows. He struggled to wake up. "Wha'?" he asked sleepily, his eyelids winning the fight to stay asleep and starting to slide down. One of the figures turned and punched him, helping him on his way to the sandy shores of sleep. Before he drifted off, he heard one word, whispered urgently.  
  
"Da'!"  
  
(5 minutes earlier)  
  
Rowan lay sleeping, lost in the bliss of unconsciousness. He didn't hear the door being forced or the large bulk that made it's way softly across the creaky floorboards. It took the punch to wake him. When he did, his stomach dropped to his shoes. He recognized the smell of oil and alcohol that emitted from the hand over his mouth. It was a smell he knew instantly, a smell associated with one word that his mind and body screamed silently, Dad.  
  
His father removed his hand and before Rowan could yell or move he was punched two or three more times. He felt his nose begin to bleed and his lip split. The pain didn't register for another moment or so and by then his father had once again covered his now bloody mouth with the dreaded hand. "Ye shut up now," said his father although Rowan had yet to make a noise, knowing if he did he'd just be beaten more. "I've got a gun and a mind to take out e'eryone of your new friends," he whispered harshly, sarcasm weighing heavily on the word friends, "so ye better keep your trap shut or …" He let the possibilities hang. Rowan nodded slowly, so his dad understood that he wasn't going to speak.  
  
He dragged the boy from the bed. Scott chose this moment to stir, to mumble something. His father turned and punched the boy. Rowan couldn't help it, he whispered the word, "Da'!" His father turned and slammed his fist into his face. Now the blood was really pouring down, getting all over the bed, the floor, on him. His father started to drag him from the room, and Rowan felt the blood splatter. He reached out his hand and managed to grab his jacket. He prayed it had something useful in it. He let his feet drag slightly on the ground, hoping the tracks would tell Dwayne, the police, any one who would bother to look, some-thing. His father threw him in the car and his head hit the other side. Then the blissful blackness.  
  
(Sunday)  
  
Ezra opened his eyes and saw spots. There were splotches of red everywhere, even, Ezra realized, looking down, on him. "Peter!" screamed Ezra, over and over again.  
  
Peter entered the dorm running and saw blood everywhere, on the floor, the walls, the desks and dressers, but most of it seemed to be on Rowan's bed, where Rowan was not. Peter turned on his heel and sprinted to the main office to wake up Sophie and call Dwayne and the police.  
  
A/n: Moo hahahaha! A cliffie! 


	18. Interogation

Police Chief- What was the last thing Mr. Douglas was wearing?  
  
Group- Uh  
  
Ezra- His Elvis T-shirt  
  
Police-Excuse me?  
  
Ezra- It's this big baggy black t-shirt that had white lettering on the front that says Elvis is dead and on the back says get over it.  
  
Auggie- and he was wearing baggy black zip off pants  
  
Police Chief- Is black a big clothing thing?  
  
Daisy- yeah, everything he wear is black or reallllly dark blue that looks black  
  
Peter- except for his army jacket  
  
Police Chief- and that's?  
  
Peter- camouflage colored, a size too large and has a couple of band patches on it  
  
Police Chief- Is this the same jacket found missing?  
  
Sophie- yes  
  
Police Chief- OK, now I need for you to answer…  
  
(Late Sunday)  
  
Rowan touched the back of his head and felt his fingers touch something hot and liquidly. He brought his fingers in front of face and saw red. Blood? Where had that come from? His head swam and something lurked on the edge of his mind. Something 


	19. Snooping

Dwayne and Peter looked at each other before proceeding to enter Rowan's bed area. They searched under the bed, the drawers, looking for clues on where Rowan went. Peter rummaged through Rowan's dresser until his fingers hit something hard, hidden within the neatly folded dark clothes. He pulled out a small wooden box about 6 inches long by 5 inches with a cover that slid on and off. The wood was stained with small dark splotches that Peter had a feeling was dried blood. The various nicks and scratches had been worn smooth by numerous holdings. Peter called Dwayne over and they slowly opened the box.  
  
It contained a lighter, a small penknife, a few oil pastels in a rainbow of colors, 3 crumpled newspapers articles, a small gift tag and 2 photos carefully folded. Dwayne slowly uncrumbled the newspaper articles. One, the most faded, simply stated, "Traveling Circus Woos Dublin Audience, Including Antics of 6-Year Old Knife Thrower". The second was an obituary, the headline and first few lines remarking, "Sara Douglas, 16, will be sorely missed. She was found dead Saturday, from a self inflicted gunshot wound." The last was a longish article beginning with the lines, "8 years old Rowan Douglas was found unconscious in his apartment. The boy is believed to have been put in the coma by his father, Grant Douglas. Grant is now wanted by the police. A reward of…" The article went onto describe that Rowan had lay there for at least 2 days, near death and pinned there by a knife through his hand. Custody of Rowan went to the state.  
  
"He was in that coma for a month and a half," remarked Dwayne. "They still haven't found his father. Finding him would result in a very nice vacation."  
  
"How nice?"  
  
"3 journeys by cruise ships to the Bahamas. I also thought he knew where his father was and refused to tell." Wordlessly Peter picked up the first picture and unfolded it. It portrayed three laughing people: a teenage girl with copper hair that fell gently down in waves with bright green eyes, a very young boy with black and blond streaked hair, and a man in his early 20s with shiny black hair. Dwayne traced their faces with his finger. "Rowan, Jasper and Sara," he said softly.  
  
"That's-" trailed Peter. "God he looks so innocent, so happy. Laughing? I can count on one hand with plenty of fingers left the number of times I've seen him laughing." He unfolded the other picture. It was a picture of a baby girl with bright red hair done up in ponytails and green eyes.  
  
"Sara?" said Dwayne with a note of question in his voice. The two split again to continue going through Rowan's things.  
  
(Dwayne's POV)  
  
Dwayne stuck his head underneath the bed but couldn't find anything. He wasn't surprised. This was the kid who managed to sneak a carton of cigarettes into JuV 3 times. He remembered something one of Rowan's dorm mates had told him and cautiously felt the underside of the bed. Score! His mind screamed as his hand touched a binder. He pulled it out and called Peter over. He opened it to see the poetry notebook Peter had given everyone and a sketchpad. He opened the notebook to see words that were dancing across the page to his tired eyes. He rubbed his eyes and asked, "I thought he didn't keep a notebook?"  
  
"Guess I was wrong." Dwayne cleared his throat and began to read aloud the words. 


	20. Saturday's Poem

Sunday's Poem- write a haiku (5-7-5)  
  
  
  
Haiku I Really Don't Want To Write  
  
She was the light of  
  
My little world, it began  
  
And ended with her 


	21. Sunday's Poem

Sunday Poem- Attempt to write a ghozle (ghozle=Couplets with the last word of the second couplet the same)  
  
  
  
1 Eulogy (a pitiful attempt at a ghozle)  
  
When she died I felt nothing  
  
Only pain, numbing pain  
  
When I was beaten or when I fought, same as they are  
  
I felt nothing but my friend, the numbing pain  
  
When the blood runs down my arm  
  
Burning it, I think, it only adds to the numbing pain  
  
As I sit here writing, I'm feeling something breaking  
  
Burning through and cracking in half the numbing pain  
  
When I take the knife and stick it deep inside  
  
Maybe that'll wrench my heart from the grasp of the numbing pain  
  
When my funeral comes and someone dares to cry, to try  
  
To give my eulogy, be sure to tell them I'm free from numbing pain  
  
When someone glances upon my stone make sure it tells all  
  
I've finally escaped this hell of a life and the pain, the numbing pain 


	22. Monday's Poem

Monday- Write a Poem about someone you relate to- be sure to use spacing  
  
1 Clown  
  
This is stupid  
  
I say  
  
And all I really mean  
  
And can't say  
  
Is that  
  
I hate the way  
  
I live my life  
  
The fact that I can't stand  
  
Myself  
  
There's nothing I can do  
  
Because talking gets me nowhere  
  
And when I speak  
  
You don't listen  
  
I tried once  
  
You laughed in my face  
  
The pain in my head  
  
Can't outweigh the  
  
Pain in my soul  
  
But you'll never  
  
Read this  
  
Because I won't let you  
  
Since I'm not a clown  
  
And paid to be laughed at 


	23. (gasp)Tuesday's Poem

Tuesday- Write an Epigram  
  
Midnight  
  
-The sorrows of death encompass me and the pains of hell got hold of me: I found trouble and sorrow- Psalm 116:3  
  
The clock chimes-  
  
Midnight  
  
My blood pounds roaring in my hollow veins-  
  
Midnight  
  
My covers lie askew and my eyes wide open-  
  
It must be midnight  
  
The witching hour,  
  
The burning hour,  
  
My eyelids become movie screens-  
  
Flashing things I don't want to see:  
  
Flames and fire  
  
Blue eyes, baring the soul  
  
My mind screams rebellion,  
  
My tears weep defeat  
  
As they squirm from clenched eyelids  
  
Skin sweats silver  
  
I lie awake  
  
Head pounding-  
  
Midnight 


	24. Wednsday Poem

Wednesday- Attempt a Rhyming poem  
  
1 Ode to Pain and Hateful Memories  
  
Roses are red  
  
Violets are blue  
  
Time has gone by  
  
And I still hate you  
  
You gave up your chance  
  
To join in the game  
  
And now because of you  
  
I'll never be the same  
  
You walked out  
  
Leaving curses in your wake  
  
But lets still be together  
  
For old times sake  
  
We toss around the blame  
  
Some screwed up kid's game  
  
My bad attitude  
  
Your inability "to express anger"  
  
I still don't know why we fight  
  
Two equal springs coiled tight  
  
When will we end this game of the insane  
  
And heal the pain?  
  
I start yelling to see  
  
To make you hear me  
  
If my screams would unlock you  
  
And show you  
  
I need someone to help me  
  
Figure out what I wanna be  
  
But your mind is elsewhere  
  
So here's a toast  
  
Fuck you  
  
And the memories too  
  
I'm gonna live my life by my rules now 


	25. Thursday's Poems

Thursday- Write a free verse poem about a memory and a free verse poem about an everyday occurrence.  
  
1 Bullet  
  
She screamed  
  
In pain  
  
In loss  
  
I slam  
  
Hard wood  
  
God refuses my deals  
  
What more can I give?  
  
What more can I lose?  
  
If only…  
  
Night again  
  
Sun won't rise  
  
Damn you silver orb  
  
Flesh in bone  
  
That made blood splatter  
  
And dark curls  
  
Fly haywire  
  
My life  
  
What little  
  
No worth  
  
2 Group  
  
Mass grouping  
  
Of pain  
  
Silver chairs  
  
They think  
  
Each other knows nothing  
  
Poor fools  
  
We're all fish in a trap  
  
At least  
  
I don't disguise  
  
The game  
  
We play in  
  
Stupid  
  
On common ground  
  
We all hate  
  
Want to leave  
  
To go nowhere 


	26. Friday's Poem

Friday- Write a Poem in one of the ways shown to you  
  
1 Leave  
  
Please go away  
  
You couldn't understand the truth, not even if I forced you  
  
What do you know?  
  
Have you ever been beaten-not you  
  
What do you feel?  
  
Have you ever lost everything you loved-not you  
  
What do you remember?  
  
Have you ever tasted the sky- not you  
  
What do you want to know?  
  
Like I'd tell, not no one and not you  
  
Please go away  
  
You couldn't understand, not even I told you 


	27. Snooping Again (shame, shame)

Disclaimer: Aloha- sorry about the poetry but yes it's important and yes I'm trying to end my little ol' Cliffhanger quickly. I repeat though- HA! (Evil laugh) Moohahahahaha (cough) ha (cough) ha (choking) Call a (cough) paramedic (passes out with a loud crash)  
  
Peter and Dwayne looked at each other. "Get the feeling we weren't supposed to read that?" said Peter.  
  
"A slight one. So, we've gone through all his stuff and haven't found a single clue where he's disappeared to."  
  
Peter turned to a fresh page in the notebook and began to list possibilities.  
  
He slit his wrists/ attempted suicide and ran away  
  
"But what about the car tracks?" said Dwayne. Peter groaned and crossed at number one. He tried again.  
  
He slit his wrists and called a friend who came and picked him up "But how would he get a phone?" asked Dwayne again. Peter felt ready to yell.  
  
" What's your idea?" he asked angrily.  
  
"The one you don't want to accept. Rowan was forcefully taken by someone, probably his father. Scott said he heard Rowan say Da'. Who else would he call Da'? And wouldn't he have said Dad? His accent only comes out when he forgets it or means to sure it. He only forgets it when he's really upset. All signs point to kidnapping." Peter looked out the window where the police chief was still questioning everyone. "I've known Rowan for 4 years now. The kid normally has motives for doing something, whether or not everyone else sees them."  
  
"Do you think they'll find him?" asked Peter, not noticing how his voice had grown softer.  
  
"That's the other thing. Rowan ahs a history of disappearing, of not being found when he doesn't wan to be found." Peter and Dwayne's eyes caught each other's, both on the verge of giving up hope.  
  
"Guess we better go show this thing to Sophie and the chief," said Peter. The two stood, carrying the binder and left the room. From underneath the open window Scott, Shelby and Ezra looked at each other.  
  
Rowan woke up form the spell of the drugs by the foot that rammed into his stomach. He breathed slowly and felt the pain pass, an old trick. His ribs felt weird but for the life of him he couldn't think why. Where was he? Who was the man looking at him? He groaned and was kicked again. This time he slipped back into unconscious ecstasy. 


	28. Little Orange Canister

Nope, don't own Higher Ground. Damn. Guess what? Don't own Garbage's Temptation Waits. Go figure.  
  
Little Orange Canister  
  
Auggie cleared his throat nervously. He, Scott and Ezra had decided to come clean. "We- uh, we, uh found something Rowan was hiding. We think they're sleeping pills or something but we're not sure."  
  
I'll tell you something  
  
I am a wolf but  
  
I like to wear sheep's clothing  
  
I am a bonfire  
  
I am a vampire  
  
I'm waiting for my moment  
  
"Where'd you get these?" asked Peter, "I thought Dwayne and I had found everything."  
  
"The windowsill comes off. We were throwing a football and it hit the sill and made a hollow sound," explained Scott, "it comes off if you knock it in just the right spot. We found that and this." He held out a Swiss Army knife.  
  
You come on like a drug  
  
I just can't get enough  
  
I'm like an addict coming at you for a little more  
  
and there's so much at stake  
  
I can't afford to waste  
  
I've never needed anybody like this before  
  
I'll tell you something  
  
I am a demon  
  
Some say my biggest weakness  
  
I have my reasons  
  
Call it my defense  
  
Be careful what you're wishing  
  
"How many knives have you guys found?" asked Ezra.  
  
" Two other ones," said Sophie.  
  
"Oh," said Ezra, "Wellll…"  
  
You come on like a drug  
  
I just can't get enough  
  
I'm like an addict coming at you for a little more  
  
and there's so much at stake  
  
I can't afford to waste  
  
I've never needed anybody like this before  
  
You are a secret  
  
A new possession  
  
I like to keep you guessing  
  
"How'd you think this canister's lasted 3 weeks," wondered Dwayne aloud. "At least a third are left."  
  
"Dunno," mused Sophie.  
  
You come on like a drug  
  
I just can't get enough  
  
I'm like an addict coming at you for a little more  
  
and there's so much at stake  
  
I can't afford to waste  
  
I've never needed anybody like this before  
  
Rowan stared at the pills in his hand. What if? What if he didn't take them? He glimpsed the dark figure in the shadowed doorway. He sighed. Guinea pig. Lab mouse- no, rat. That was him now. No hope for nothing else.  
  
When I'm not sure what I'm living for (when I'm not sure what I'm)  
  
When I'm not sure what I'm looking for (when I'm not sure what I'm)  
  
When I'm not sure what I'm living for (when I'm not sure what I'm)  
  
When I'm not sure what I'm looking for (when I'm not sure what I'm)  
  
When I'm not sure what I'm living for  
  
When I'm not sure what I'm looking for  
  
When I'm not sure what I'm living for  
  
At least this place had plenty of drugs to keep him numb and uncaring to the world. He tossed the pills to the back of his mouth and swallowed. There. He could almost count the bright spots that danced for him. Closing his eyes, he could feel himself drifting, drugs overtaking. There was bliss.  
  
When I'm not sure who I am  
  
Temptation waits 


	29. Razor Burn Pains the Soul

Disclaimer- I don't own Nelson Mandela's inaugural speech (in italics) or Higher Ground. Enjoy  
  
Rowan slowly raised the tiny piece of metal to his right arm, a little below the shoulder. He ignored the sputtering shower with its rusty water; his bleeding cuts and painful bruises, his water logged black boxers, his pounding head from the drug withdrawl. All that mattered lay upon this tiny razor, hoping the pain of the cuts would drag him away from the depths of his blackened soul.  
  
Our deepest fear  
  
Is not that we are inadequate  
  
He brought the blade down fast and watched the red blood flow down. He was drowning blissfully in crimson oblivion, safe from everything… Maybe today the cut would be deep enough, he would bleed enough.  
  
Our deepest fear  
  
Is that we are powerful beyond measure  
  
He brought the now sticky metal to his other arm when Dwayne's face appearing in his mind. Peter spoke, his voice sounding out of place emitting form Dwayne's mouth but oddly comforting, "No. You don't want to do this."  
  
1  
  
2 It is our light, not out darkness that scares us  
  
"Yes," Rowan tried to say. "I do. I want to die. Why does no one get this?"  
  
"No." Kat appeared. Kat? Rowan tried to ask but her face danced in his head. He leaned against the dirty tile wall and for a moment he was once again blissfully unaware.  
  
We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant,  
  
To be gorgeous, talented, and fabulous  
  
A new face appeared. Moaning, Rowan slid to his knees, leaving a bloody trail; shining red against the dirt and scum.  
  
3  
  
4 Actually, who am I not to be?  
  
You are a child of God  
  
Your playing small doesn't serve this world  
  
The copper curls, the laughing mouth, the eyes that held the stars and the key to the 8-year-old dreams he had cherished. The dreams that were no more, the dreams he was a fool to believe in, a fool to believe in her. She was saying something, but he was too far away, too far-gone. Unconscious of the fact he dropped the razor blade, unconscious of the fact his arm poured forth a fountain of blood, unconscious of the fact that his father had entered the room and turned off the sputtering shower. Rowan strained to hear the voice in his head; eyes squeezed shut, oblivious to all.  
  
5  
  
6 There is nothing enlightened about shrinking  
  
So others won't feel insecure around you  
  
He was ripped out of his trance by a man he didn't recognize for a moment, the his name wormed its' way back into Rowan's mind, leaden and heavy. Dad. He shook on the bloody shower floor, the lack of drugs shaking his body cruelly, his arms and numerous cuts soaking and drying his pale skin scarlet, discoloring tattoos and scars, birthmarks and bruises.  
  
We were born to manifest the Glory of God that is within us;  
  
"Withdrawl, eh?" The man said. Rowan didn't answer, didn't care. His mind racing over the one word. No. No what? No more drugs? No more living? No, don't die?  
  
7  
  
8 It's not just in some of us- it's in everyone!  
  
He felt a slight stinging on his cheek where he guessed his father had slapped him but his mind was still running after the answer that seemed to be just out of reach, too far away. Do I want to die? Yes, but do I want to die, but here, in this hole, giving in? No.  
  
As we let our own light shine,  
  
We unconsciously give others permission to do the same.  
  
Rowan saw his father slash his pale tanish wrists saying, "You want blood? I'll give you blood, here's blood." He almost felt his father sticking the needle in his arm. "Here's a mix that'll give you a trip you won't believe…" Rowan fought the icy numbing for a moment, letting himself feel only the skin warmed by hot blood that dripped from his wrists, arm and dozens of other places. No. He was going to get out, escape. After that… He didn't let himself think farther ahead than that. Rowan slipped back into the river of drugs, blood, and curls that cried copper.  
  
9  
  
10 As we are liberated from our fear  
  
Our presence automatically liberates others! 


	30. Subdued Group

Disclaimer- Still don't own Hayden Christensen or the rest of Higher Ground.  
  
(Saturday)  
  
Peter stood in front of the subdued group. He cleared his throat, getting a few glances. "I know Group's been hard since…since Rowan's disappearance a week ago, but Dwayne, Sophie and I have found something," he paused, "that maybe can give us a sound board to talk about our feelings."  
  
"You guys know the poetry you had to write?" started Sophie.  
  
"I'm not reading mine again," said Ezra, "embarrassed red is not my color." His remark got a few smiles that barely sliced through the moody air.  
  
"Well, it seems Rowan did do the work and just refused to show it. We've decided to have everyone take a turn reading the poems out loud," said Dwayne.  
  
"And then," Sophie paused for drama, "discussion of our feelings!" Sighing, the Group began to read, passing the binder in a circle. When they finished, Kat was crying and the other girls were more than a little misty.  
  
They sat silent for a moment until Scott spoke up, well whispered up, "Sara."  
  
"What?" said Dwayne.  
  
"Sara- she's the girl in his poems isn't she? In his nightmares too."  
  
"Nightmares?" questioned Peter. Ezra, Auggie and Scott proceeded to fill him in on Rowan's screaming night time fit.  
  
"Who is Sara?" Shelby asked Dwayne, who looked at the other adults, confused on which answer he should give.  
  
"Well, Sara's, she's, Sara's-"  
  
"She's no one." Everyone turned to see Rowan standing dripping rain and blood in tiny rivulets in the doorway. "Like me. I'm not here to talk about the past. I need the name of the other place. The place I would've been sent if I didn't choose here."  
  
"But why? Where-"  
  
"I don't have time," said Rowan softly, hurriedly. "He's coming and when he does, he'll kill me." 


	31. A/N 2

Yeah, it's another a/n. Come on; you know you love 'em. Sorry about the second (or is it third) cliffie. Just so you know, at least one more is coming. I've finally figured out how this story is gonna end (I think).  
  
Any hoo, IT WAS MY BIRTHDAY THE OTHER DAY!(ok, week, but I'm a little slow. That's ok) I feel so special! Yup and uh huh. Any hoo again, does any one know how I can start a column so if you want to listen to me babble by choice instead of by force because I might let something slip (like we find out who Jasper is and we meet em. Don't tell anyone! Shhhhhhhhhhhhh, I can see you itching to tell some one)  
  
Yes I am in the midst of a sugar rush, but I'm like always in one. Or I'm coming off one. As for the poetry, I'm glad to see so many people liked it. I have other poetry if you guys want to read more and review it, I have it. Tralalalalalala- ok, I'm scaring the woodland animals. Perhaps it's time to go. Cheers! 


	32. Confess

Disclaimer: What I don't own: Higher Ground  
  
Soul Asylum's Runaway Train  
  
What I wish I Owned: Higher Ground  
  
Soul Asylum's Runaway Train  
  
(While we're on the topic) All the hot guys I happily obsess over  
  
All the Bands I love  
  
What I do own: Rowan  
  
Dwayne  
  
Rowan's Dad  
  
This story line  
  
Any questions?  
  
"Oh God Rowan," said Peter, "what, what happened? Where have you been? I thought you liked it here."  
  
"More than you could know," whispered Rowan, half to himself, but Dwayne caught the words.  
  
Call you up in the middle of the night  
  
Like a firefly without a light  
  
You were there like a blowtorch burning  
  
I was a key that could use a little turning  
  
"Where have you been? What happened? Wh-" started Sophie.  
  
"Please," pleaded Rowan, "just give me the name of the place."  
  
"Alright. Are you hungry? When was the last time you ate something?" consented Dwayne, although he longed to ask more questions.  
  
"How long have I been gone?"  
  
"A week. Now answer my question. When was the last time-"  
  
"A week ago."  
  
"What?" Dwayne stuttered and stopped, defeated.  
  
"Sit down," said Kat, all the other Group members seemingly shocked into silence by the wicked turn of events. They had imagined the police bringing Rowan back, or Dwayne, or Peter, with the runaway a little bruised but not this. Anything but this.  
  
Dwayne watched as Rowan staggered to the offered chair. He sat, his torso shaking, although Rowan was making an obvious effort to control it. "Why are you shaking?" asked Peter, kneeling down in front of the boy. Rowan leaned his head back against the comforting wood and just slid up the sleeve on his jacket to expose his right arm, his wrist clumsily wrapped in a torn shirt. Though the shirt had once been black, it was stained a darker color.  
  
So tired that I couldn't even sleep  
  
So many secrets I couldn't keep  
  
I promised myself I wouldn't weep  
  
One more promise I couldn't keep  
  
It seems no one can help me now,  
  
I'm in too deep, there's no way out  
  
This time I have really led myself astray  
  
Peter stared at the needle marks that covered the offered elbow crease. "He used to be really smart- like a total math and science whiz. So smart he can mix drugs. He needed someone to try the drugs on. To try out the trips. He knew I don't see the difference between life and death and that was it. He came, he grabbed, he drugged and conquered. No choice for me." Peter slowly put his fingers on the drying clumsily wrapped cloth on the wrist. "No, don't…" Rowan half-heartedly pleaded. Peter unwrapped the bandage and watched as the blood welled up. "Christ man," Rowan sighed, "you started the bleeding again. I can't loose much more." He struggled to put that bandage back on, exposing accidentally that his other wrist was wrapped in a similar fashion and that he wore no shirt under the ¾ zipped jacket. Peter's eyes stared at the tattoo that intruded the pale skin's scar sanctuary.  
  
Runaway train, never going back  
  
Wrong way on a one-way track  
  
Seems like I should be getting somewhere  
  
Somehow I'm neither here nor there  
  
Peter took the ripped shirt and tied it back on, gently. "Who's he?" he asked, already knowing the answer.  
  
"My father."  
  
"I thought you liked it here," said Dwayne.  
  
"You don't get to make a lot of decisions when you've got a gun to your head and told if you run your blood is his and that if you run to the one place you feel safe at he'll kill the people there too. I may not have any respect for my life but I do have some reverence for other life." Rowan breathed raggedly, as if the effort of merely speaking was tiring.  
  
"You feel safe here?" asked Sophie, in wonderment.  
  
"I don't have a lot of past experiences to go by, but yeah."  
  
Can you help me remember how to smile?  
  
Make it somehow all seem worthwhile  
  
How on earth did I get so jaded?  
  
Life's mystery seems so faded  
  
I can go where no one else can go  
  
I know what no one else's known  
  
Here I am just a-drownin' in the rain  
  
With a ticket for a runaway train  
  
"Please," Rowan paused, "just give me the name of the goddamned place. I'll go there and you'll never see me again."  
  
"What if we don't want to never see you again?" asked Kat quietly.  
  
Ezra spoke now, "You've got people now, Rowan."  
  
"Yeah, people who are going to get majorly fucked if I don't get the hell out of here soon. Look, I have to go. Long enough for my Dad to cool down."  
  
It was Daisy's turn to speak. "So you ran away. Why would he want to kill you?"  
  
"That's… That's not all I did."  
  
And everything seems cut and dried,  
  
Day and night, earth and sky,  
  
Somehow I just don't believe it  
  
Runaway train, never going back  
  
Wrong way on a one-way track  
  
Seems like I should be getting somewhere  
  
Somehow I'm neither here nor there  
  
"What else?" questioned Dwayne, not sure if the answer was one he'd like.  
  
"I sorta called the cops on him. I came off a high and was just lying there and decided to get the hell out. I felt blood pooling in my hand from when he slit my wrists, so I took my knife and cut my shirt and tied it around my wrists to try and stop the bleeding which didn't work so well, as you may have guessed. I grabbed my jacket and left. I walked a couple of blocks, stole some guy's cell phone and called the cops on my dad- I mean, the guy's wanted by three countries. I figured they might want to nab 'em. I also said he had a drug business going."  
  
"Oh shit," said Dwayne. "That's got your name down on the fucked boy list. But he's in jail. The police came and carted him away, right?"  
  
"Didn't stick around long enough. Besides, his name's got meaning. Even from behind bars he can get someone to hunt me down."  
  
Bought a ticket for a runaway train  
  
Like a madman laughing at the rain  
  
A little out of touch, a little insane  
  
It's just easier than dealing with the pain  
  
"But you said you felt safe here," said Sophie.  
  
"THE GUY SAID HE'D KILL EVERYONE HERE IF HE FOUND ME HERE! I tend to believe him!" yelled Rowan, getting pissed he couldn't get the simple information he needed.  
  
"Alright, calm down, I'll go get the name of the place, " said Dwayne, "and something for you to eat. I'll drive you there."  
  
"No, I'll go on my own. I can travel easier, stay out of sight, stay low."  
  
"Fine. I'll see you guys in a minute. Peter, I'm just going to go check your records." Dwayne caught Peter's eyes for a moment, and Peter nodded.  
  
"Call the pigs and I'm out of here, into the woods, before they step out of their car," threatened Roan.  
  
"OK," came the defeated answer. Dwayne left, the open door briefly betraying the sound of the rain smacking into the wood porch and hardened mud.  
  
Runaway train, never going back  
  
Wrong way on a one-way track  
  
Seems like I should be getting somewhere  
  
Somehow I'm neither here nor there  
  
"How'd you get here?" asked Peter. "Hitch hike?"  
  
"Nah, got in the back of some guy's tuck. I heard him saying he was going by this place. The assholes had a good laugh about the prospect of the going so close to place for the screwed up kids." Rowan's voice tightened for a moment. "Just till out of town though. Then walked."  
  
"It's 10 miles!"  
  
"It was a long walk."  
  
"Oh. Well-" There was silence for a moment until the door flung open. Rowan jumped up and stared at the dark figure for a moment, just for a moment, his voice shrieked out the one dreaded word.  
  
"DA!" He ran out the other door like a beast of hell was on his heels, and in a way, one was.  
  
  
  
Runaway train, never coming back  
  
Runaway train, tearing up the track  
  
Runaway train, burning in my veins  
  
I run away but it always seems the same 


	33. Father of Mine- courtesy of Everclear

Father of mine  
  
tell me where have you been  
  
you know i just closed my eyes  
  
whole world disappeared  
  
father of mine  
  
take me back to the day  
  
when i was still your golden boy  
  
back before you went away  
  
Rowan tore out of the door, demon close behind. "Da! No!" he yelled, trying to reason and run as fast as he could at the same time.  
  
(Peter's POV)  
  
"You little fucker! You betrayed me!" The man tore after the youth, the rest of the group in hot pursuit, sliding, slipping in the damned mud. Please God, let Rowan get away, Peter tried to plead to a God who didn't seem to be listening and run at the same time.  
  
"Da just calm down!" The boy dashed on. Then cruel Fate decided it needed to intervene. Rowan slipped and sliding in the mud, he hit the wood one of the buildings. "Da, listen to me. I didn't mean," he pleaded Irish accent prominent, back against the wood and large angry man only an arm's length away. He was silenced by a hard punch that was the first stone in a hail.  
  
i remember blue skies  
  
walking the block  
  
i loved it when you held me high  
  
i loved to hear you talk  
  
you would take me to the movie  
  
you would take me to the beach  
  
you would take me to a place inside  
  
that is so hard to reach  
  
Father of mine  
  
tell me where did you go  
  
you had the world inside your hand  
  
but you did not seem to know  
  
father of mine  
  
tell me what do you see  
  
when you look back at your wasted life  
  
and you don't see me  
  
  
  
Rowan struggled to hit back, slugged the man once, maybe twice, then was beaten to the ground. The man began to kick him. The rest of the group struggled to catch up, still sliding in then mud, loosing ability to stand, to move as the rain poured down, masking their desperate tears. This couldn't be a father. What father would so coldly kick and pummel the boy that lay on the ground, screaming incomprehensible words that had no meaning to them? Better yet, it was easier to imagine the pile wasn't a boy, wasn't a person, just a punching bag. So much easier. Until the man pulled at the gun, aiming it at the mound. "Say 'allo to yer sister," he mumbled drunkenly.  
  
  
  
I was ten years ole  
  
doing all that i could  
  
it wasn't easy for me  
  
to be a scared white boy  
  
in a black neighborhood  
  
sometimes you would send me a birthday card  
  
with a five dollar bill  
  
i never understood you then  
  
and i guess i never will  
  
daddy gave me a name  
  
my dad he gave me a name  
  
then he walked away  
  
daddy gave me a name  
  
then he walked away  
  
my dad he gave me a name  
  
"Freeze," came a new voice, clear and unwavering, the word holding golden dropped in the air. The man moved his head slowly to look into the barrel of Dwayne's gun. "Drop your gun," commanded the new Dwayne, not the laughing Dwayne, or the pissed Dwayne, put a Dwayne firmly in control, although he may not like the position he held. The man dropped the gun. "Step away from Rowan."  
  
"He's shit. Why would you care about him?"  
  
"Shut up. I swear to God, I'll blow your goddamn head off." Sophie rushed inside to call 911 and Peter rushed over to the shapeless lump that poured blood, so much blood. Tenderly, carefully, Peter knelt down and felt for a pulse.  
  
"He's breathing. Just barely but he's got a pulse." For a moment Peter debated with himself. Rowan needed to be turned on to his back so his blood wouldn't suffocate him but he didn't know if he had internal injuries. "Roger, I need a little help." Speaking to the counselor that had appeared, knowing he would be needed. Slowly the two turned Rowan onto his back. The boy coughed once and stopped breathing.  
  
father of mine  
  
tell me where have you been  
  
i just closed my eyes  
  
and the world disappeared  
  
father of mine  
  
tell me how do you sleep  
  
with the children you abandoned  
  
and the wife i saw you beat  
  
"Oh God!" yelled Peter once. He started CPR, gingerly pressing on Rowan's ribs. The boy coughed again, breathing shallowly, but breathing. Oh God, he was breathing. Rowan coughed again, coughed and coughed and coughed. Blood was spitting out of his mouth, getting all over Roger and Peter.  
  
"What do we do?" asked Roger hurriedly.  
  
i will never be safe  
  
i will never be sane  
  
i will always be weird inside  
  
i will always be lame  
  
now i'm a grown man  
  
with a child of my own  
  
and i swear that i'm not going to let her know  
  
all the pain i have known  
  
Then thankfully, the blue and red lights, the men who said Rowan was dying, almost there. So very close. He was hanging on by a thread. They said it sadly, as if the line connecting the boy to life was already broken. Nonononononononono, thought Peter. No.  
  
then he walked away  
  
daddy gave me a name  
  
then he walked away  
  
my dad he gave me a name  
  
then he walked away  
  
daddy gave me a name  
  
then he walked away  
  
my dad he gave me a name  
  
then he walked away 


	34. Ashes to Ashes

1 Ashes to Ashes  
  
(Peter's P.O.V through time lost in the vortex of pain)  
  
Oh God- Rowan  
  
Pool of- lost so much- AB type- blood- transfusion  
  
Cut off the chain? No! Keep it!  
  
Need it when he if he arises  
  
Never heard of a Gypsy  
  
Sleeping BloodyBeauty with long blonde streaked  
  
Hair matted so dark  
  
On to the hospital- walls so clean and bright  
  
Not red like Rowan's Rowan's pool  
  
In a coma  
  
May never  
  
Wake up! Turn for the worse  
  
Get better, please, pleading  
  
Death is hovering  
  
I'll stay with him  
  
You need to rest Dwayne- But what if he wakes up?  
  
He may never- damn the doctors!  
  
He tried to hit back  
  
Screaming Irish men left a boy so broken  
  
Wrist ribs fingers nose soul body  
  
Some scars opened 40 stitches total Frankenstein  
  
Saw back and chest, scars and tattoos like  
  
Stitched butterflies dancing clumping dyeing  
  
Leaving their marks  
  
On pale pale pale skin too much so much  
  
Had to take pictures for files  
  
Manila folders covered with vomit  
  
Are you ok?  
  
No never- I can't  
  
Too much  
  
I know  
  
No you don't  
  
I held his blood  
  
Soaked my clothes not yours  
  
His ruined garments didn't lie against your skin  
  
Never forget the feeling  
  
Slippery wet eel  
  
So much more dead then alive  
  
Breath machine breath for him  
  
Can't hold on  
  
Stay focused  
  
Other kids to worry about  
  
To help and care for  
  
To watch over  
  
Like a mother goose  
  
But  
  
Oh God,  
  
Rowan  
  
Sleeping  
  
Screaming once, maybe twice then just  
  
Stopping  
  
Not moving  
  
Still just sleeping  
  
Ring around the rosy  
  
Pocket full of posies  
  
Ashes ashes  
  
We all fall down  
  
Down down down down down down down down  
  
We all fall  
  
Down 


	35. Comatose

1 Comatose Thoughts  
  
(Rowan's P.O.V)  
  
Slogging through  
  
Such soft white clouds holding me  
  
Like circus nets on fluffy steroids  
  
An effort  
  
To reach the Golden Gated Doors  
  
Locked to the outsiders deemed unworthy  
  
Hello man with the long long beard  
  
Did Rumplestilkssen punch a hole through a cloud  
  
When you denied him admission?  
  
You'll let me in right?  
  
I've tried to be good  
  
But it's hard  
  
So very very very hard  
  
So if I've been bad  
  
I'm sorry  
  
No one seems to tell me what to do  
  
And I'm missing the trademark angel on my shoulder  
  
Because you took her away  
  
Maybe now I'll se her again  
  
'Tags burning my heart  
  
Like burns in the 3rd degree  
  
As I trudge  
  
For so long  
  
Pardoned and punished we stand confused:  
  
Who is pardoned and who's punished and who's at fault  
  
And why aren't they the punished?  
  
Why me? Why her? Why only now can I finally join her?  
  
She's there! Smiling sadly  
  
Dia duit- she cries a greeting  
  
Conas tá tú  
  
What's new- ask the dead  
  
They could tell you  
  
Stories that would make you roll over in your grave  
  
Ocht years old again seeing blood  
  
All over and all over  
  
Her me room floor her me room floor  
  
Galaxy crashing into blood dewdrops  
  
Like cherry red imps  
  
No! Stop showing me my demons  
  
Ocht years old forever 8 years old  
  
And crying screaming closed casket funeral  
  
Shud up he had told me  
  
And so I broke inwards  
  
Let me into paradise with her  
  
Be with her be with her be with her be with her be with her  
  
Can't take life so give me death  
  
Her head is whole unbroken again before the  
  
Bang! yells the Lone Ranger  
  
Always alone and wandering  
  
Wait! What's going on? What'd you mean I can't come in?  
  
I'm dead!  
  
This is where you go when you're dead!  
  
Yeah let's yell at angels  
  
That'll gain you entrance  
  
For sure sarcastic abilities  
  
Níl! Don't send me away again  
  
Anything but that  
  
Anything  
  
She's crying-stop, don't make me start  
  
Angels are leading her  
  
And demons are beckoning to me  
  
Splitting us up- always keeping us apart  
  
Who cares any more now? I'm screaming  
  
All you wanted came not true just  
  
Blew up in face like a 5th grade science fair volcano  
  
Let me out of this prison  
  
Into the place where you are  
  
Turning and plodding  
  
Back to hell  
  
As anyplace is with out her  
  
Red hot knife throwing  
  
Catching the blade foolishly  
  
Grasping the poker iron  
  
Saol fade driugat! Long life to you!  
  
She calls weeping  
  
But happy, not knowing the poison her words taste of  
  
Happy 'cause it's only Heaven if you're good  
  
And joyful  
  
Long life- Sara, no- that's a curse with out a mask  
  
Don't want it  
  
Give me death  
  
So I can be with her be with her be with her  
  
Be with you  
  
Forever and ever ripped and torn  
  
With her everything just fades  
  
I'm whole again  
  
But  
  
London Bridge is falling down  
  
Falling down falling down  
  
London Bridge is falling down  
  
My fair lady  
  
Build it up with bricks and stone  
  
Bricks and stone, bricks and stone  
  
Build it up with bricks and stone  
  
My fair lady  
  
Build it up with silver and gold  
  
Silver and gold silver and gold  
  
Build it up with silver and gold  
  
My fair lady  
  
Lady lady lady love  
  
As I'm falling falling falling falling  
  
Down  
  
Farther 


	36. A/N 3!!!! (a.k.a I live!!!!!)

A/N: Hey every body who wants to stake and flame me. I have excuses why I haven't written! And semi good ones too (I hope)! Reason A- I have been away from the internet for a month. For a week I went to Vermont with my friend and her family and there was no TV, computer or microwave. I got back only to go straight to CTY (academic camp) for 3 weeks to write essays and hopefully improve my writing skills. (I'll ignore the fact my parents kicked me and my stuff up the highway to say I did it all for you guys) Reason B- The disk I had ALL my fan fiction stuff on (including the next 3 chapters) is gone, along with 3 other disks that had poetry I wrote and stuff on 'em. So my fingers have been typing and typing just for you guys. Feeling sorry for me yet? Reason C- My brother has a lava lamp. Now the only computer the accepts disks (I got a new one and am re typing what I remember and adding new stuff) AND has Internet access in my house is this one. So I'm in here, surrounded by the smell of Old- Spice or whatever deodorant he wears, being distracted by the preeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeetttttttttttttyyyy lava. ::sigh:: laaaavvvvaaaa 


	37. Wake Up and Remember

Dwayne paced in the cell he was using at Mt. Horizon, the cell everyone called a single bed room. Ha. It was still a cell, whether or not it had bars. He couldn't leave it to go to the hospital. Noooo, he needed to sleep. To rest. Rest? Sleep? These were words without meaning to him; at least until Rowan awoke. He didn't have to be the same Rowan, an un- sarcastic Rowan would be appreciated, but he just needed to wake up. No, any Rowan that woke up would be good, something to rejoice over. Rowan flopped down on the hard bed in frustration. Immediately the euphoria of a bed took over, his bed starting to sleep without his consent. Instead of struggling, he gave in.  
  
**5 years ago**  
  
Dwayne stepped into the Venice Beach jail, and heard immediately the sounds of someone screaming, accompanied by bars being hit. He walked to the back and saw a young teenager throwing himself at the cell bars, screaming for his CD player and cursing out the guard. "Hey!" shouted the guard at Dwayne over the sound off Rowan, "can you get him to shut up?!" "Give him his damn CD player!" responded the other two cell- sitters. Grudgingly the guard handed it over. Muttering a few other things under his breath, Rowan went and flopped down on the hard mattress. Motioning for the guard to unlock the cell, Dwayne stepped inside to stand by the bed. "Hey," he said, trying to sound cool but still powerful. "Am I supposed to know you?" asked Rowan. "Oh wait, lemme guess, Julie gave up on me? And damn, she was hot too. So, your name is?" "Dwayne." "Well Dwayne, you've just sold your soul. Go ask the guard for a doughnut and reward yourself." "Bad blood pressure." "But Dwayne, don't you have confidence in the American Law System? They do so well in contaminating everything they touch. I'm sure they can get you a lard less doughnut if you ask nicely and grovel for a bit." "Thank you Mr. Pessimist." "That's Sir Pessimist to you." "Alright then. So, you wanna tell me why you're sitting in a jail at midnight on this fine Thursday?" "Not particularly." "OK then, how about you tell me why you're in a jail at midnight today?" "Um, how about, I got caught for $500 Alex?" "Caught doing what? C'mon, strap on that thinking cap. What were you doing that was a no no?" "I had 2 wallets on me that weren't mine." "And." "I was in an abandoned building 'cause I broke in." "Very good! Now who wants a trial?" "O-o! How about the guy who thinks you're a prick?" "Great start we're off to, eh?" 


	38. Ressurect Me

Rowan stopped and saw Above it all he looked in At a hospital room Another memory To be gone again soon A baby's birth, a mother's hate, All lead up to a date-with a man And a sister Playing games with-blood always the winner Leading the life of a born sinner And the blood The blood The blood That tainted and covered all The blood The blood That was always there The blood The blood And Rowan moved closer Closer to the body The body kept alive by its machines and wires And it loomed closer Rowan tried to tear himself away from his orbit again Not again to THAT body It held too much And he wasn't strong enough But no one listened No one cared How typical And he was the body And the body was him And Rowan opened his eyes 


	39. Memories More

Dwayne sighed in his sleep, unconsciously relaxing as his mind chose another memory from the Rowan library to think about.  
  
*4 years ago** He made such a forlorn figure walking down the street in the rain. And an oblivious one who had yet to notice the car tailing him. Dwayne saw him disappear in to an alley for a moment. He parked the car and struggled to reach the alley quickly but the homeless man wasted minutes. Finally he got to his destination to see another man come out, fixing his pants. He stepped in, the close buildings sheltering him from some of the rain. "Rowan?" he called and a dismal figure appeared. "What are you doing here?" he asked, scared, looking for cops. "Do you need a place to spend the night?" "What?" "Do_you_need_a_place_to_spend_the_night?" "What would I have to do?" "Nothing." "Your couch?" "You guessed it." "Fine." 2 hours later Rowan slept under the afghan Dwayne's mother had knit him ages ago. Rowan had agreed to return to JuV on the condition he's be put back on the foster kid circuit. But once again, refused to tell Dwayne why. Dwayne watched him sleep, and fought the urge to brush the boy's bangs off his face. The boy. Strange how he never thought of him that way. But he was just a boy. Sure, a boy with masochistic tendencies but just a kid. Just a kid.  
  
*1 year ago* Dwayne sat on the edge of the bunk, next to Rowan who had his head buried in his hands. "Why?" Dwayne started but not able to finish. Part of him was glad Rowan was in jail; he couldn't run again for another 2 days and maybe, just maybe, this would break through Rowan's shell. Crumble it and make him owe up, talk, let some of it all out. Dwayne thought back to the hospital room where he had looked in on Joey. That kid, he looked, he looked trashed. His face and torso busted. What had happened? Then he realized Rowan was talking. "-bad?" "What?" "How badly is the guy trashed?" "Broke his nose, his arm, ribs, popped blood vessels in his eye, fractured his jaw-" "OK. I get the point. And the school says." "You're expelled." "Go figure" "Why? Why would you do this? This wasn't a fight, Rowan. It was assault. You could go to jail for assault." Silence. "You ran from the cops." Still silent. "You had a friggin knife! Say something!" "Wot?" The Irish accent came out and Rowan sounded scared and angry. "Wot you want me t' say? I don't know! I don't know anything!" "Calm down. You scared?" "If I was?" "I wouldn't blame you." "You should- everyone already does."  
  
*Now*  
  
"Dwayne! Wake up! Kat just called! Rowan, he, he-" "He what?!" "He woke up!" "He's still in the hospital room?" "No! He left! We have to go now! Peter and Sophie are waiting! C'mon!" The phone rang as they passed Peter's office. "Hold on Auggie- I'll go get it." "But Rowan!" "It might be him!" "Hurry!" Dwayne rushed to pick up the phone, praying it was Rowan. "'Lo?" he rushed out. The Irish accent was there but it wasn't Rowan. "Um, this is Jasper Gallagher. May I speak to Dwayne?" "Meet me at the hospital." Dwayne slammed down the phone and ran to the car that waited. 


	40. Even 40

Tralalalalalalalalalalalala- can we say boredom? Knife Thrower isn't over yet. Maybe ¾ of the way? Oh yeah I'll drag this out- like road kill beneath your tires. Ewwwwwwww, I just thought about that simile. Yeah, um bunnies and shite like that. For all of you who liked my angsty poetry or are just really bored (I feel your pain) read my new one. Called Bump in the Night. Shibbiness to all 


	41. Jealousy? (no idea what to name this cha...

Disclaimer: I bow to who ever thought of the concept of Higher Ground and their characters. Bow, Bow.  
  
Dwayne leaned against the window, surrounded in the silence of 4 other people. They stood and waited not sure of what else to do. The door opened and a collective breath was drawn as a teenage boy stepped inside. His hair was shorn to 3 inch spikes tipped red and silver. On his neck was a tattoo of a sun combusting. The cast around his wrist bore graffiti and what looked like paint. But the army jacket was the same. The clothing was the same. The eyes looked around warily the same way. And it was still Rowan. For a second no one said anything. That second was enough for Rowan to start to turn again, hand reaching for the knob. "Wait," said Kat. "Why would you wanna start over again?" He didn't get a chance to answer before Peter asked, "Where have you been? We've been worried." "I got my hair cut. The blood. the blood matted my hair to the point it needed to be cut. I was getting tired of dreads anyway." "That's it?" "Hit a store or two and bought some clothing. Thanks Dwayne for leaving my monthly allowance out where I could get it." "No prob." Rowan moved to the bathroom. "What are you doing?" "Going to shower. Do I need a chaperone for that, by any chance?" "Well, no, but wouldn't you like to say hi to-" The bathroom door shut. "He's back alright." Jasper asked quietly, "Do you think I should just leave?" "No," answered Sophie, "he just didn't recognize you, that's all." Dwayne's throat tightened and part of him wished that Jasper really had been blown off the face of the earth. 


	42. Ladies and Gentlemen i updates and thus ...

"Ladies and gentlemen," came a voice as Rowan emerged from the bathroom, hair wet and freshly clothes in black UFO pants and a midnight T- Shirt that read, 'I hate you'. "Boy's a' girls, Irish of all ages, here's a wonder for you." Like a robot, Rowan whispered along, "The 5 year old prodigy who can throw knives and flips on his feet. Prepare to meet-" Rowan stopped but the voice carried on. "Rowan." "Jasper." "*Dia duit." Rowan stared at the man who stepped forward, soaking in his face as the room started to empty. The face was tanner and had been washed white recently, but regaining colour now. The laugh lines were deeper and the hair a little shorter, shot with grey, but the eyes were still the same, the bright green he remembered, still flecked with hazel.  
  
"**Conas ta tu?" Jasper couldn't speak but began to talk. And Rowan began to listen.  
  
*- (Irish) Hello **- (Irish) what's new? How are you?  
  
Sorry for short chapters but I've been reworking a lot of this- my files were lost so I decided to change a few places I was going to carry the plot. I've also been working on the follow up. (Be happy) 


	43. Truth or Dare

"So how about 'No Stupid Questions' for 1000, Alex?" Real funny Ezra. "Funny Ezra. What do you think Rowan?" Stop trying to draw me into the conversation Peter. "Screw off." Me "Now Rowan, my feelings are hurt." Peter "Get a life." Me "But I have one. Helping-" Peter "Lost innocents find their way back to the sheep hold is not a life. It's taking over someone else's body." Contrary Me "And you say that-"Peter "So today's question is what Peter?" Good move Sophie. "Fill in the blank. Blank and I are alike because blank. Shelby starts." Peter "Daisy." Not Me "Auggie" Not Me "Scott" Not Me "Jules" Not Me "Rowan" Not Me. Think of Sara "Rowan" Not Me Think of Ireland "Rowan" Ireland and Sara Not Me "ROWAN!" Me, back again "Huh?" Witty Me "Where do you go?" Peter, no answer "Where do you go?" "Huh?" Me "You block out everything and take your mind some where else. It's a psychological defense against feelings the subconscious mind thinks are painful or harmful." Dr. Peter "No where." Me "Ireland?" Peter "Burns." Me? "What?" Sophie "Just answer the question" Peter "Which is?" Me slipping back to Ireland and Her "Blank and I are alike because blank" Sophie. "Uh" Me, so verbal "Today?" Ezra "My Da' and I are alike because we both wish I was dead." Me "Rowan?" Kat "Truth." Me. I leave 


	44. Swallow those Pills

Still only own Rowan, Dwayne and Jasper. So where are my reviews? I'm trying to end this sometime soon so I can start my new story, which'll be called "Like a Child". First person to respond will get a special treat! "Rowan, we need to talk," said Dwayne. "Really? How interesting. Can we do that later? I have to go and commit suicide." "Funny. Strange how you pick the topic we wish to talk about," said Peter in a monotone, bored voice. "We've decided to put you on medication for your depression," said Sophie, cutting right to the chase. "Isn't that against your guys' rules?" "We're already letting you take sleeping pills. It's just.. Group isn't working, shuns isn't working, and maybe this will. But we don't want you to become dependant or anything," said Dwayne softly. "What do you have to say Jasper?" Rowan asked the man who sat silent. "They said you're becoming increasingly dead- oriented and read the files the hospital psychologist left. So I say go for it. But we've decide it's up to you." "Fine. It's not like the happy songs and woodland animals and fresh air are doing all that much. Why not throw in meds too. What'll I be taking?" "We're gonna start you on a Prozac like drug and see what happens," said Sophie. "So basically let's play experiment with Rowan's depression?" "Yeah, something like that." Peter tried to catch Rowan's eye. "When do I start?" "How about now?" said Dwayne. "Here- you'll tale 2 a day, in the morning, before breakfast. Swallow up." Rowan tossed the pills to the back of his throat and swallowed. It felt like old times. 


	45. MedicationGarbage Songluv shirley 2 wks ...

"Where's Rowan?" asked Peter, stepping into the boy's dorm, there to remind them that Group was in 5. He did not see everyone's favorite happy, spunky, little Irish though. "Probably in the bathroom. For a guy who doesn't care about his looks, he's in there a couple of hours a day," said Auggie heading out the door. Peter pulled Scott off to the side. "You want to explain?" "Doing his normal thing." "Which would be?" Peter was getting a tad worried. "Um, you don't know?" asked Scott, confused and keeping his voice down low. "What don't I know, Scott?" Peter was also getting a tad pissed off and had started to inch towards the bathroom. "Scott grabbed his arm. "Promise you won't yell, but. he's throwing up." I don't need an education  
  
And I learnt all I need from you  
  
They've got me on some medication  
  
My point of balance was askew  
  
It keeps my temperature from rising  
  
My blood is pumping through my veins  
  
"WHAT?! WHY?" "Shhhhhhhhhhhhhh! He said not to tell anyone but." Scott really did not want to be in this position because any way he answered he was screwed. "But what!" "All the anti depressants and shit you guys have him on make him puke for like a couple of hours a day. He said it's probably his body's way of revenge, after all the drugs and stuff." "Uh huh. Well I just catch up and you tell him-" Peter was interrupted by a large crash emitting from the bathroom. Somebody get me out of here  
  
I'm tearing at myself  
  
Nobody gives a damn about me  
  
or anybody else  
  
I wear myself out in the morning  
  
You're asleep when I get home  
  
Please don't call me self defending  
  
You know it cuts me to the bone  
  
Though it's really not surprising  
  
I hold a force I can't contain  
  
The only two people left in the room ran to find the bathroom door locked. Peter rushed it and opened the broken knob to see Rowan lying in the shower with the split rod and shower curtain draped over him. Peter slowly picked up the plastic baggy with the wet cloth inside and stepped over the silver aerosol can that rolled on the floor until it hit the toilet and stopped. Somebody get me out of here  
  
I'm tearing at myself  
  
Nobody gives a damn about me  
  
or anybody else And still you call me co-dependent  
  
Somehow you laid the blame on me  
  
Still you call me co-dependent  
  
Somehow you laid the blame on me  
  
Rowan blearily opened one eye, head rolling against the tile wall, his neck in a noose made from a ripped T Shirt. "Dian duit," he mumbled and passed out. Peter cursed softly and Scott just stood in shock. Somebody get me out of here  
  
I'm tearing at myself  
  
I've got to make a point these days  
  
to extricate myself Somebody get me out of here  
  
I'm tearing at myself  
  
Nobody gives a damn about me  
  
or anybody else  
  
(later) Rowan shifted on the couch. Wait why the couch? Where was the couch? Where was he? The last thing he remembered was- oh shiiiiiiiiiiiiit. Groaning he sat up and looked around the familiar office that was Peter's. Two pairs of eyes looked back, worried and pissed in turn. "What is wrong with you?!" exploded Peter. "A pounding headache."  
  
And still you call me co-dependent  
  
Somehow you laid the blame on me  
  
And still you call me co-dependent  
  
Somehow you laid the blame on me  
  
Somehow you laid the blame on me  
  
Somehow you laid the blame on me 


	46. Take Matters into Your Hands

"What's your problem? Huh?! Why do you do this to yourself?" Peter yelled. He couldn't take it any more. He was tired of Rowan acting out, acting different and for the first time in his time at Horizon, Peter was actually scared. He wasn't sure if he could actually ever help Rowan, make him, and force him to choose whether he wanted to live or die. And Peter was scared he'd choose die. "I, I, like how it feels to be dead. That's the hanging thing. It's like I have control over death because I can chose when I die. I get to dance with Death when everyone runs and hides because they're scared. But I'm not. And that means I'm never gonna get hurt." Sophie and Peter looked at him dumbfounded. That was the most he said in one sitting since he was released form the hospital. While he was in the hospital too, unless you counted him screwing with the shrink's mind. "Rowan, why would you feel that way?" asked Sophie, her voice hinting on a sigh of confusion. "It's just.. Never mind. Shuns, right?" Rowan got up and started to leave and Sophie headed over to the phone. Peter just sat in stared into space, thinking. Some say the end is near. Some say we'll see Armageddon soon. I certainly hope we will. I sure could use a vacation from this bull-shit, three-ring circus side-show of freaks here in this hopeless fucking hole we call LA. The only way to fix it is to flush it all away. Any fucking time, any fucking day. Learn to swim, see you down in Arizona Bay.  
  
Fret for your figure and Fret for your latte and Fret for your lawsuit and Fret for your hair-piece and Fret for your Prozac and Fret for your pilot and Fret for your contract and Fret for your car.  
  
Rowan slid into his chair and the lunch table went silent. Rowan saw Scott's face and it looked guilty. But, he at the moment, he really didn't care that privacy was not an option here. Jason passed by the table and stopped for a moment. "Hey Rowan, is it true you tried to outst yourself? I wish you had. It'd clean this place up!" He laughed and just walked away when the rest of the table screamed at him to shut up. Rowan just buried his head in his arms and waited for Dwayne to show up, for him to be screamed at again, to be sentenced to his room and his thoughts and torments. It's a bull-shit, three-ring circus side-show of freaks here in this hopeless fucking hole we call LA. The only way to fix it is to flush it all away. Any fucking time, any fucking day. Learn to swim, see you down in Arizona Bay.  
  
Some say a comet will fall from the sky, Followed by meteor showers and tidal waves, Followed by fault lines that can not sit still, Followed by millions of dumb-founded dipshits.  
  
And some say the end is near. Some say we'll see Armageddon soon. I certainly hope we will. I sure could use a vacation from this, Stupid shit. Silly shit. Stupid shit.  
  
Dwayne stood next to Rowan. He tried to breathe, tried not to yell, but that's how it cam out. A scream of "Why?" and "What's wrong with you because at the moment he really couldn't take it. And the scream didn't catch Rowan muttering to his arms, record timing. But the scream was silenced when Rowan stood and began to walk away. But Dwayne wasn't given a chance to spit out the question that was formed behind his lips. Because Rowan had something to say. One great big festering neon distraction, I've a suggestion to keep you all occupied. Learn to swim. Learn to swim. Learn to swim.  
  
Mom's gonna fix it all soon. Mom's coming round to put it back the way it oughta be.  
  
Fuck L. Ron Hubbard, And fuck all his clones. Fuck all these gun toting, Hip-gangster wannabies.  
  
"You are all such frickin idiots! You know that! You think you know so much! Well riddle me this physiatrist! How old was I when I started on sleeping pills! How old was I when I first cut myself! How about the first time I drank or smoke! How many times have I attempted suicide! Who got me into prostitution! Explain me! And what, you don't know! Do you want to know? 8 years old when I started on Nyquil. 6 when I first cut my arms. My mom used to spike my drinks with vodka and my dead would have me puff on his cigarette and laugh when I choked. I've tried to kill myself 11 times; 4 by slicing my wrists, 3 times by hanging myself, 2 times I've attempted to OD, once I tired to drown myself, and oh yeah! I was anorexic for 3 months because I thought it's be an interesting way to die but it just took too long! But you don't want to know that! You just want everything to be hugs and puppies but it's not! In real life, the love is killed and puppies are drowned when they're runts, not loved because they're so cute and helpless. So let me drown. Go away. Don't talk to me, don't touch me, just let #12 be the clincher." And the cafeteria was silent and Dwayne's scream died in his throat. Decayed and rotted there until he stepping forward after Rowan, who had left. Fuck retro anything, Fuck your tattoos. Fuck all you junkies and Fuck your short memory.  
  
Fuck smiley glad-hands, with hidden agendas. Fuck these dysfunctional, insecure actresses. Kat stood and raced after Dwayne. Dwayne ran up to Rowan and said something. And Rowan reared back and punched him, screaming for him to not talk to him, to leave him alone. And Rowan reached into Dwayne's pocket and Dwayne lay on the ground unconscious because damn Rowan could pack a punch and Rowan pulled out keys and cigarettes. And ran to Dwayne's car and climbed in. And drove. And Kat stopped and stared. I'm praying for rain, I'm praying for tidal waves, I wanna see the ground give way, I wanna watch it all go down, Mom please flush it all away, I wanna see it go right in and down, I wanna watch it go right in, Watch you flush it all away.  
  
Time to bring it down again. Don't just call me pessimist. Try and read between the lines. Peter stood and didn't move from the steps of his office. Oh yeah, he could chase after Rowan. But his brain refused to react. It just kept thinking the same thing, over and over again. Here's another tidbit for the files- grand theft auto. I can't imagine why you wouldn't welcome any change my friend.  
  
I wanna see it come down, plug it down, suck it down, flush it down.  
  
  
  
Song: Tool- Anemia 


	47. Baptism by Acid Truth or Dare 2

The cop brought me back And handed you a black back pack of new sins You stole a car? You shot up? You spent the night and ½ the day in jail? But all of you- You're talking, all of you But can't you see with too many blinded eyes that I'm drowning You brought me back a memory to show you care and thought of me on your vacation From my existence But he's not enough And I lash out and hit a wall because it's harder than you and so much closer Walk out in the middle of your tenacled reach In the middle of another mindless suffocating sentence  
  
I seek my air-the nurse stares at my intrusion My breaking of the glass and your shouts destroy the silence The medicine cabinet stands tall and friendly is the noise the stolen bottles make Jangling like the bells in my drug induced worlds Your surprised o's of mouths would amuse any cartoonist and make me feel victorious I took the dare your eyes whispered But I haven't died yet or have I done Death-by-pills already and missed my greatest moment? My grand finale?  
  
I swallow the bottle- the little addictions I'm dying (always have been) and now you see it too It's on the outside just for you STOP! You call and now you're real in Fear and Death finally but it's just a little too late to be concerned I snap my arm to your flesh because now the wall is too far for my busted knuckles to reach Feel my pain now as it hits you belly wise and I'm angry for all you haven't saved Grab a few more bottles just in case one won't cut it Then run- flee by flying I'm untouchable because you have not wings And hide  
  
Amongst the height and leaves of trees and for once I'm taller than the sky and Him Suddenly I vomit Surrounded and floating in my own acid Up comes 1 mistake, 2 mistake, 3 mistake, 4 I push the rattling bottles away from me And they splash into the water I stare down the stories And wonder if I jump will the plunge be deep enough to sink me and long enough to finish where the bottles failed and I can finally win the game Fate dealt me  
  
As I contemplate She appears She Who climbed to the cliff's top She Who followed me I think I would fall if my knees weren't already bent Her face a question that asks, did you? I motion to the acid pitting the rock The water where the bottles play at bath time boats She sighs, in horror, shock, relief, dare I think love? and sits next to me Soaking up the dusk  
  
Begins to tell me a bedtime story For a moment I'm distracted by her midnight skin turning her into an ebony goddess Then I realize she's telling me history Of a life in a family differently colored that she loved nevertheless and A sister she felt responsible for The water that swallowed her only light- the little girl So she stole to create a new spotlight to find herself in She thinks and I think for a moment of another lighthouse, another beacon  
  
Suddenly My mouth opens As if my brain subconsciously registered that her story was soup and salad And it's up to I to provide the main course My life yanks itself painful from the cavernous depths of my throat that it leached itself onto Like teeth rotted and pulled without Novocain and a night without Valium  
  
My father's hands and fists The mother who wanted my bed Sara's blood and the gun I tried to grab, but missed Frank standing over me Giving it all up again for Janna- because I couldn't wash my scarlet hands in another blood bath Drugs that created a clouded fantasy And all that I thought no one could know But now she does My throat had tightened and I had thought I'd cry But me dam remained unbroken even when she wept in a torrent And I talked through and couldn't comfort her, couldn't touch her She didn't meet my eyes, but I refused to look The water moved in the darkness of a black midnight moon Unseen but not unheard  
  
Suddenly I stand Back up and run and fall and fall Where I sink And become birthed again Into a new life rejecting the cowl of my past The mother who didn't want me but I ruined her prom anyway The father who had to prove I was forever wrong But I'll remember the sister Who dared to love And Her Whom I love Who dares to try  
  
Review please. Knife thrower is almost over and I only want a few with substance. That's all 


	48. Champagne Supernova

Hey- still on the prowl for more frickin reviews. C'mon people- do it for captain spoon bear man! (He's in the next story.. Heh Heh) The song happens to be by a little ol' band called Oasis. The song title? Champagne Supernova.  
  
Kat had time to wonder for a moment if she was ever to catch up with Rowan, if he was always to win the race, before jumping down after him. She hit the water hard, splashing, her arms stinging. She came up for air only to dive back down. But when she reached the surface again, she noticed a body floating, out of the corner of her eye. Diving shallowly, she swam over to where Rowan floated. Panting "Thought you couldn't swim." "I can't. So now I'm trying to figure out how long it'd take to doggy- paddle towards shore." Kat breathed in for a moment. "Take my hand. You just kick your legs and I'll tow." His hand breathing electricity into hers, she began to swim towards the sand.  
  
How many special people change How many lives are living strange  
  
Where were you when we were getting high?  
  
Slowly walking down the hall  
  
Faster than a cannon ball  
  
Where were you while we were getting high? They reached shallow water and stood for a moment. Hands still clutched tightly, Rowan turned to her and kissed her lips softly. "Thanks, for putting up with my King of The World moment." "Only if I get another kiss," Kat said, trying to sound seductive, but getting the feeling she wasn't quite pulling it off. "If my hormones get their way, you'll be getting plenty of kisses in the future." "I'm glad that that goal has been stated then. So, who's up for some sand?" "Only if my clothes get gritty and incredibly itchy. Making out is no fun any other way." Some day you will find me  
  
Caught beneath the landslide  
  
In a champagne supernova in the sky  
  
Some day you will find me  
  
Caught beneath the landslide  
  
In a champagne supernova  
  
A champagne supernova in the sky They lay in the sand and satisfied both hormones and heart with tongues and lips (nothing else you nasty people). Holding hands they watched the sun rise. "So how dead do you think Peter is going to make me?" asked Rowan, trying to sound nonchalant. "Well, white or yellow roses for the funeral?" Kat tried to laugh it off but knew that Peter was at his last strand of hair when it came to Rowan. "Seriously, how much do you like Horizon?" "More than you should know," sighed Rowan. "And by that you mean what, oh cryptic one?" "Since leaving Ireland, Horizon's been the thing I identify the words 'home' and 'safe' to. I don't get the crud kicked out of me here, I'm off drugs," he stopped, "more or less, and I get the feeling that this is maybe the one place my past and my dad and mom aren't going to pop up out of nowhere and bite me in the ass. And yeah, I know, I pull the naff git thing too many times and yeah, I tend to think that Peter and company need to pack it in, but I mean.. Peter's not going to show up next to my bed late one night looking for a screw. And yeah, Sophie needs to learn to open her gob but she's not condescending. And Dwayne. Dwayne I can count on to bring me back down to the pigs when I've pulled a running man but then again, he's offered me his couch more than once when I've called him from a pay phone because the prats I was staying with have gone and used my body as a bloody punching bag. So no, I don't want to leave, especially with you here and all. And if they make me leave, I don't know what that's going to leave me with. Probably me going back to scrounging on the streets and trying to stay off drugs but failing. I mean, I've been in enough counseling that I could probably write a book on all the things wrong with me. And I know I'm not strong enough to not go back to drugs. Because I've tried to quit and I've been clean for months, even a year once, but I always go back. Because I need that escape. Because the problems I've got are too much for me to deal with on my own. That's why I've wanted to die for so long. Because I've served my hell. I'm living on the knife blade. And once I die, everything's got to shape up, right? " Wake up the dawn and ask her why  
  
A dreamer dreams she never dies  
  
Wipe that tear away now from your eye  
  
Slowly walking down the hall  
  
Faster than a cannon ball  
  
Where were you when we were getting high? Some day you will find me  
  
Caught beneath the landslide  
  
in a champagne supernova in the sky  
  
Some day you will find me  
  
Caught beneath the landslide  
  
in a champagne supernova  
  
A champagne supernova in the sky Kat squeezed Rowan's hand and waited for the stars to give her an easy answer. And with none coming she spoke what came first to her mind. The truth as she saw it. "I don't know if things will get easier. But if you have reached the very bottom than the only place left to go is up. Things can't get any worse, right?" she paused, not sure how to keep going but the pressure on her hand made her open her mouth, her 'gob' again, "When I first got here, I was assigned a paper on this really old religion, called Jainism. The short version of it is that there are 7 hells and 7 heavens that must go through before we reach the final heaven. And each hell is worse than the last, but the final heaven is worth it. Maybe that's what you're going through. Maybe the death of my sister was one of my hells. Maybe I'm not sure what to tell you, but I'm trying. And I don't want you to leave." Cause people believe that they're  
  
Gonna get away for the summer  
  
But you and I, we live and die  
  
The world's still spinning round  
  
We don't know why  
  
Why, why, why, why "You really believe that?" asked Rowan." "Why shouldn't I?" "Point taken." They lay in the sand for another hour or so, letting the sand dry on their skin, giving them another layer to shed in the shower. "We should probably walk back." "Yeah. Help me up? I'm too comfy to move on my own accord." They stood and began the 2 and a half mile trek back to Horizon, hands clenched. "How did you follow me anyway? I thought I was running pretty fast." "I was on the track team before my sister died." "Oh."  
  
How many special people change  
  
How many lives are living strange  
  
Where were you when we were getting high?  
  
Slowly walking down the hall  
  
Faster than a cannon ball  
  
Where were you while we were getting high? Some day you will find me  
  
Caught beneath the landslide  
  
In a champagne supernova in the sky  
  
Some day you will find me  
  
Caught beneath the landslide  
  
In a champagne supernova  
  
A champagne supernova in the sky They walked into Horizon and Rowan gave sharp gasp. The police cars must have left by now, but Jasper's rented shit was in the parking lot. Everyone seemed to be in classes. Everyone but the boy and girl who walked through the campus. It wasn't totally empty or silent. There were people on breaks who, if they recognized Rowan or Kat just gasped silently or dropped their jaws. Kat felt like she was on display, more open then her shameful cries beside her sister's casket, more open than be lead through the mall with cuffs on, in front of those she thought were friends, like her heart and soul were exposed for all to see. She realized what Rowan had to go through since coming home from the hospital. The whispers that spread like a forest fire, the eyes that looked away, the shame of an outcast. Cos people believe that they're  
  
Gonna get away for the summer  
  
But you and I, we live and die  
  
The world's still spinning round  
  
We don't know why  
  
Why, why, why, why Rowan opened the door softly and as luck would have it, Peter and Sophie and Jasper and Dwayne sat inside. He didn't give them a chance to speak, but said, "I threw up the pills and threw the others into the lake. I don't know how to start but Sara didn't kill herself. My da raped her with another guy and I tried to break down the door but it was too heavy and when they were done the other guy left and my da threw her into the room like he was a binman and then threw something at me and I got knocked unconscious and when I woke up he was putting the gun into her hand and said that if she ran he'd kill me or do to me what 'e did to her and if she died then he wouldn't touch me and all this shit that she needed to die because it was her fault and if she didn't have me there she could've run but I was there so she shot herself and blood splattered all over me and I tried to say something so she didn't but he had me by the throat and wouldn't let me scream. And Frank would stand by my bed and put a gun to my head and tell me to work the streets and if I said I wasn't going to he said he'd send Janna out instead so I would and he got me in to heroin and sometimes I would fuck him for more smack and and and .." Peter motioned for Kat to leave but she felt rooted to the floor; he hadn't said it this way to her. And Rowan opened his mouth and began to say more. How many special people change  
  
How many lives are living strange  
  
Where were you when we were getting high?  
  
We were getting high  
  
We were getting high  
  
We were getting high  
  
We were getting high 


	49. Desperate Measures

Disclaimer: This chapter is going out to Funkee Munkee cause she's the only one who frickin reviewed the last chapter! :: points finger accusingly at computer screen:: Well, she was the only one who reviewed at the time I typed this installment so if you reviewed two seconds after I turned off stats, well sorry. Thanks anyway.  
  
"And I didn't mean to put that guy in the coma. It's just. Johann was always on my case and the day it happened. The night before that slut of a foster had told his mom over cards what happened to Sara. And she had told Johann. And when I came to school the next morning I was already in a bad mood because the night before the foster bastard had smacked around and when I got to school I saw a bunch of kids talking and they came over and Johan said real loudly, 'Hey Gypo is it true that your sister killed herself cause she didn't like the way you screwed her?' And I couldn't help it. Cause I didn't see Johann's face. I saw my dad's face and Sara's face and my face and I wanted to just be rid of those faces and those memories and not have to deal with it anymore, with hating those people. My da for giving the gun and Sara for leaving me and me for killing her. Or helping to kill her. Because they're had to be something I could have done. Some small act that would have erased those mistakes, make her still be with me. And when they pulled me off him I didn't see Johan's face. I just saw mine staring back at me, after my dad or Frank or a foster was done with me. And I couldn't take be more like them then I already was and am." Rowan paused for a long second. "So I confessed. I better just go and get my stuff. K. I'll be ready in 5 Dwayne." Rowan turned his hand on the knob. "Wait," said Dwayne. "Rowan, repeat after me for a sec. Please? Just say 'it's not my fault'." "Yeah sure whatever. It's not my fault," said Rowan, head still to the door, voice lacking any emotion. "No," said Dwayne, afraid they were losing Rowan. More than he had thought possible, getting desperate, "Please, face me. Now say it, mean it, please, Rowan. Please say it and mean it." "OK, fine." Rowan turned, and keeping his eyes staring out the window said in the monotone voice, "It's not my fault." "Please, Rowan, I'm begging you, mean this. Look into my eyes and say it. Please, just mean it." Rowan turned his head to Dwayne, and tried to say the words. He really did. But they wouldn't come out. He leaned against the door. Chest heaving, he tried to say the simple sentence, squeezing his eyes shut. But it wouldn't come. Silently, he started to cry, the first time in years. Sinking down he curled into himself on the floor, like a flower refusing to bloom. Crying and sobbing but without making a noise; shaking like he was being beaten, like his tear were huge weights or scabs being ripped off old flesh wounds. Kat knelt next to him and tried to fold him into a hug but he flinched, pulled away again. Dwayne tried but didn't let go and slowly Rowan relaxed and soaked Dwayne's shirt. And he slept then, head against the strong chest, the fist time he had ever been able to sleep like a child. They watched him sleep. And then Kat asked, "Can he say?" Peter didn't ry to say no. He couldn't now. Dwayne lifted Rowan easily and carried him to the couch, laif him down. And Rowan slept on. 


	50. Knife Thrower

Rowan Mr. Mazda Prompt: Who are You? English  
  
"Knife Thrower"  
  
When you balance on a blade You get used to bleeding And screaming In your head  
  
When you throw a knife You get used to missing And hitting Those you care about  
  
When you enter a new place You get used to being the outcast The Loner, the Newbie Sitting quietly  
  
But you when you are taken in Under stronger wings than your skin And you don't have to be stoic to bear the beatings You don't get used to that  
  
So maybe I'm new at this So maybe I need to try again So maybe I need to let go of the beatings in my head So maybe I might have a chance To escape my nightmares alive This time 


End file.
